Clash of the Titans
by Deutschrocker
Summary: One case, two mystery-cracking teams. Though they have to work together, the question remains if the case will actually be solved. Whatever is haunting this home, is out to kill. Out to kill them all.
1. Chapter 1

"We are _not_ working with professionals," Fred stated bluntly. "And that's final."

"Jeez, like, after everything we've done, we're not professionals?" Shaggy retorted, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Hmpf."

"I have to agree with Shaggy on this one, Freddy," Daphne cooed, perching her hand on Fred's right shoulder, as he was turned away from her. "We do happen to have _some_ idea on what we're doing."

"Stop being a drama king, Fred." Velma snapped, pushing her glasses up her nose. "We're up against something that we've all agreed is evil. You want to take that on our own?" She grabbed the house phone, walking outside to the gang's deck and backyard.

"Where is _she_ going?" Fred whined.

"To call PRS back, Fred." Daphne scowled, yanking her hand off Fred's shoulder. "We're not doing this alone." She stalked across the kitchen, joining Velma outside.

By the time Fred pulled his head up, he was completely alone.

XXX

"I understand." Ryan's words slipped from his lips as he hung up the phone. Letting it fall from his hands, he rose, snatching his jacket from his computer chair. Taking one last glance at his dorm room, he left.

Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his right-hand man, Sergey.

"Serg,"

"Ryan, my man. What's happenin'?"

"They agreed."

"I'm sorry, who? Why you being so… Cryptic?"

"Mystery Inc finally agreed to work jointly with us. Be at the court yard in an hour- case briefing."

It was of no use on Sergey's part to inform his team leader that the team had already had a case briefing. And several in-term meetings along the way. Whatever Ryan said, happened, and so he agreed.

Ryan's next step was to inform the other members, meaning first and foremost, his next in chain of command: Katrina. Though Katrina was competent, she would, if provoked, discuss case matters privately with Sergey. PRS' version of high school drama, which, to say the least, upset Ryan, who obviously had a desperate need to be in control.

XXX

"I have called you here," Began Ryan, interrupting Katrina and fellow teammate Heather's gossip session. "Because our colleagues Mystery Inc. have agreed to cooperate with our investigation."

Fortunately, Serg and Katrina knew how to rip Ryan off his extremely high horse. "Ryan," Serg interrupted. "It's a _joint_ investigation now." He used the word joint as if he were introducing a new word to Ryan's vocabulary. "Mystery Inc. And PRS are working on this _jointly._"

"It was originally our case, needless to say, Sergey." Ryan retorted.

It seemed like it was all up to Katrina now, before Ryan went on a complete tirade. She gently pulled her companion Heather up by the crook up her arm, leading her outside the Penn State courtyard, leading in the direction of the junior parking lot, where their cars slept and wait for them. Following the duo's lead, the remaining two members, Sergey, the technology specialist, and Elfie, the occult specialist, also headed in the direction of the parking lot, leaving Ryan to lecture himself. His hung slumped down, his pointer finger and thumb caressing where his eyebrow met his nose. He groaned, treading lightly, admitting defeat. _'Way to make a statement, Katrina…'_ Ryan mumbled mentally.

XXX

"I still do not like this idea at all." Fred groaned from his cell of the backseat.

"That's why I'm, like, the one driving." Shaggy responded, "You'd like, have turned the car around the minute we left the driveway."

"Would you _watch_ what gear you drive her in, please?" Fred snapped at Shaggy, referring to his beloved van the Mystery Machine. "She's delicate."

"Fred, I've driven stick before. I'm not, like, completely incompetent." Shaggy snorted, not even glancing up in the rear view mirror to answer. He shifted the van into a faster gear, and assaulted the gas pedal, sending Fred sliding into the van's rear door. Shaggy snickered to himself. _'That'll teach 'im.' _

Daphne had elected to also take the backseat, and as everyone suspected, it was only as an attempt to spend more time with Fred. _'Well how much more time can you spend with the guy?' _ Velma thought to herself. _'You both sleep in the same bed now.' _ It was no secret that the redhead and blonde were sexually active with each other. That boat had sailed. As awkward as it was going to sleep, it certainly made for some satisfying laughs for Shaggy and Velma the next morning at breakfast. Velma often thought about the teen currently driving, as their rooms were adjacent, shared a bathroom, and had attended school together all their lives. She felt warm when she was with him, but could not place the feeling.

As Shaggy drove, he gripped the wheel tightly. He also shared the same warm feeling that Velma had, but was completely overwhelmed by embarrassment. Seeing as the young prodigy and lanky boy shared a bathroom, it was bound to happen sometime, but it was still completely embarrassing. His mind drifted back to the incident…

"_Like God, sometimes I hate being a dude." Shaggy groaned as he slipped his boxers off. "Why do I have to deal with… __**This.**__" Glancing down, Shaggy sighed as he yet again had a severe case of what was know as morning wood. As he began to address the problem, he heard the door click, and then swing open. _

"_Knock knock- oh good grief." It was Velma. And she was staring at none other than Shaggy's second head. _

"_I-um, well, we, uh," Shaggy stuttered, "It's a guy thing?" He smiled haphazardly. _

"_I-I can see that." Velma squeaked, eyes still transfixed on Shaggy. "It's um. It's nice!" She shouted, completely confused and embarrassed as she fled the bathroom. _

"_Oh shit," Shaggy muttered as he reached for the nearest towel. _

By the time Shaggy had replayed the entire scenario in his head, his legs were applying so much pressure against each other they were crushing the very thing that had caused this morning's problem. The more pain he was in, the more he pressed the gas pedal. By this point, completely unaware of the early morning's happenings, Fred was having a coronary.

"Oh sweet bejezus let me drive!" Fred howled, reaching a shaking arm over the front seat.

On the other side of the front seat, Velma was completely aware why Shaggy was driving erratically. She felt guilty for making Shaggy feel so self conscious. She placed a hand on his leg gently, which she then realized was too intimate of a gesture. Shaggy was completely red in the face, trying to breathe normally.

"Shaggy," she whispered, "I wanted to apologize. I should have actually knocked."

"Look, I like, don't want to talk about it." Shaggy whispered back. The truth was, Shaggy had never made it to first base, let alone let someone see something that intimate.

Velma let the subject drop, seeing as the gang was arriving at their destination: an old 18th century mansion. Shaggy threw the van into park, and called Scooby to open the rear doors and join him outside.

XXX

"The other half of our team is just arriving now, Mrs. Berkshire." Ryan told the client, the owner of the house.

"Bless you, Mr. Buell." The elderly lady spoke in a crackling, yet sweet voice, taking Ryan's hands. Taking out his walkie-talkie, he summoned the rest of PRS to come meet Mystery Inc. Afterwards; he smiled at Mrs. Berkshire, letting her hands go, and jogged outside.

"Fred?" Ryan greeted, stretching out his hand.

"I'm Shaggy; Fred's the platinum blonde over there." Shaggy pointed to Fred, who still seemed upset at Shaggy's driving. The lanky teen shook Ryan's hand. "Ryan Buell?"

"Yep." Ryan quickly met Fred on the path up to the house, leaving Shaggy alone with his thoughts. He was broken out of his trance by Scooby, who was nudging his friend with his cold, wet nose.

"Hey old buddy, old friend, old pal." Shaggy smiled meagerly, scratching Scooby's ears. The tender moment between old friends stopped when man and canine both sensed a presence behind them. Turning, Shaggy saw that it was none other than Velma, with the most apologetic look on her face. Shaggy turned away, leading Scooby Doo into the house.

XXX

"I asked that you both work together," Mrs. Berkshire began, "Because you are both the best of the best, the cream of the crop! And I truly know whatever is plaguing my home will be gone!"

Ryan smiled as best he could, while he glanced over and saw Fred scowling. Daphne, Katrina, Heather and Sergey were pretty stoic, while Shaggy and Velma showed feelings of depression on their faces.

"Well then," the elderly lady continued, "Hop to it!" She waved her hands, motioning for the two groups to start their work. "There's a den upstairs you guys can use as your base."

Upstairs, in the 'Paranormal Mystery Society Inc' home base, Ryan was taking over the case briefing, as usual. "Mrs. Berkshire has been plagued for years by the paranormal, was not bothered by it. But when the spirit, or demonic force, attacked her daughter, and caused her to miscarry, she put her foot down."

"What do you mean attacked?" Velma inquired.

"Her daughter and son-in-law were sleeping when her daughter, Elizabeth, woke up on the business end of an assault; all that was missing was an attacker. They then saw a black apparition slink out of the room. She miscarried the next day."

Shaggy's heat sank. Though he had never grasped religion growing up, through adolescence, and now as an adult, he still felt that even in the early stages of pregnancy, there was still life, and for some sadistic, undead _thing_ to murder it, just was horrific to him.

Katrina, seeing how distraught Shaggy had become over Ryan's last statements, spoke suddenly. "We start tomorrow." And with that PRS dissipated, leaving the gang alone. Shaggy was the first of the Mystery Inc group to leave, Scooby following him to an unoccupied room.

Daphne noticed Shaggy's odd behavior, and called Velma on it. "You know something."

"Leave it be." Velma snapped, stalking off.

XXX

Around three am, Velma woke up in a cold sweat. She'd been having nightmares, but that's all she could remember. She had no idea what about. But she knew she woke up scared as hell. Which automatically made her think of Shaggy. Which led her to Shaggy's door. She opened it, and stood, silent in the doorway.

Shaggy was startled, and awoke from the sound of his door being jolted open. "Like, is there some reason you're, like, standing in the doorway? In your underwear?"

Velma blushed, just realizing now she was only wearing her bra and panties. "I wanted to apologize. Does my _completely_ unattractive appearance make up somewhat for this morning?"

Shaggy did have a slight smile on his face, until she'd gone and said that. He pulled the sheets up to his chest, and turned away from the young woman. "I said," he spoke with an unusually low and angry voice. "I won't talk about it."

'_Great,' _she thought to herself. _'I don't want to talk about it, just became 'I won't talk about it.' _ She turned to leave, pausing for a moment. "I wasn't lying when I said it was nice."

Shaggy made sure Velma was long out of earshot before squeaking: "Like, Scoob, I need another towel."

XXX

The next morning there was no breakfast, which was unusual for the gang. They had gathered downstairs, presumably for a morning meal and a sit-down before the investigation began, but the Scooby gang found themselves alone. They always had a sit down breakfast, talked about their dreams, told stories. But apparently with PRS, that was out the window. They didn't eat breakfast apparently.

Which, for once in his life, didn't bother Shaggy at all. In fact, his body gave him no biological sign that he needed any form of nutrition. Scooby was worried, and had every right to be.

"Rhaggy," the Great Dane nuzzled his nose against his friend's leg. "Rhat's rong?"

"It's, like, nothing, Scoob." He patted his best friend on the head, and smiled the best he could. Scooby placed his head on Shaggy's lap, perking his ears up at him. Shaggy bent over, and Scooby must have appreciated this, because he gave Shaggy several licks to the face. His tail wagged briefly, until he felt his tail being stepped on. Scooby's first instinct was to yelp, and scramble up onto Shaggy's lap, causing the chair to stumble over, both friends landing on the floor with a loud thud. Through his fallen daze, Shaggy glanced over.

"There's, like, nothing there, Scoob." The teen attempted to calm his beloved Great Dane.

"Rut rhere ras, rhere ras!" Scooby insisted, "Rhost!" He hid his face under his paws, whimpering.

Shaggy considered this for a moment. Were they really in a true haunted house? _'If it, like, caused someone to miscarry, why wouldn't it step on Scooby's tail? Maybe there's no dude in a mask this time.' _ He thought to himself, scratching the dog's ears. He hoisted Scooby off his chest, which is how he had landed, and sat up.

"Shag?" Came a voice to shatter the silence.

"Like, yeah Fred?"

"Everything alright?" This time it was Daphne who spoke, slightly frightened by what had just occurred.

"I think this is, like, something we should tell PRS."

XXX

"What exactly happened?" Katrina questioned, pen and pad in front of her.

"What's ever in this house went after Scooby." Fred stated, arms folded across his chest.

On the floor, Scooby was still visibly shaken. Shaggy was stroking his fur, neck to tail, slowly in an attempt to calm him. "That's what, like, happened, Katrina. We were downstairs, and it, like, jumped him." Scooby shuddered as Shaggy recalled the morning's events.

"Can you be more specific?" Ryan questioned.

"Rit repped ron ry rail." Scooby whimpered, placing his head on Shaggy's lap. "Rard."

"Like, it's okay now, Scoob." Shaggy comforted.

"So the spirit will attack dogs as well as humans." Daphne concluded.

"Time for dead time." Serg interrupted, grabbing a bag sitting next to him, and pulling out several mounds of wires.

'Right, Serg!' Fred exclaimed. 'Time to find that ghost."

For the first time since their arrival, both Mystery Inc. and PRS had actually agreed on something.

"Velma, care to join me on tech duty?" Serg asked, offering out a headset. She gratefully accepted, popping off the couch with great energy, almost tripping over Shaggy and the beloved Scooby Doo. Their eyes locked for a brief second as she carefully tip-toed around the duo, tension think as fog coming off a bay.

'_This is, like, getting ridiculous.' _Shaggy thought to himself. _'We can't even, like, talk to each other?' _Putting his awkwardness with Velma aside, he climbed off the floor, and called for Scooby to join him.

"Shaggy, Scooby, take the master bedroom." Ryan instructed.

Shaggy's eyes glowed with excitement. "Just one room? We, like, don't have to search the basement, or anything, like, creepy?"

"Ryan, if I may," Velma interjected. "This place is awful big to have everyone sit in just one room. How about we combine dead time and searching for clues?"

Ordinarily, coming from someone that wasn't him, Ryan would have tossed this idea aside. But considering the circumstances, he agreed. "Alright. Shaggy, Scooby, take the fifth floor. Try to communicate with the spirit."

'_Like thanks, Velma. Really appreciated.' _ Shaggy whined mentally, rolling his eyes at Velma. In response, she placed her head in her hand, messaging her temple.

"Fred, Daphne, take the third floor."

Fred nodded, taking Daphne by the hand, exiting the base room, and leading Daphne up the stairs. They creaked with every step, making Shaggy shake.

"Like, let's go, Scoob." Shaggy led the faithful Great Dane up the stairs.

"Rhat rime ris rit?" Scooby complained. It had been several hours since both groups had dispatched.

XXX

"Like, it's about three am." Shaggy responded, leading the way. The duo had inspected most of the fifth floor, not enjoying one minute of it. They'd had several encounters with the thing the lurked the halls of Mrs. Berkshire's mansion. More stepping on Scooby's tail, Shaggy getting slapped in the back of the head; but yet nothing confrontational.

"Ri'm rired." Scooby continued. "Ran re rop?"

"Not, like, until, Ryan calls off dead time- Zoinks! Like, what was that?" Hearing something in the next room over topple, Shaggy dropped and effectively broke their only flashlight. "Better go check it out, Scoob." Shaggy felt his way out of the small bedroom they currently found themselves in, down the hall, and into the next room. He felt he way around until he found the light, but before he did, noticed that one corner of the room was incredibly blacker than the rest of the room. "L-l-like, Scooby Doo, where are you?"

"Right rere, Rhaggy." Scooby sounded, nuzzling against Shaggy's legs.

"Then, like, what's_ that_?" He flicked on the lights, only to see the blackest corner remained just that: black. Shaggy felt Scooby burrowing between his legs as what was contained in the corner rose upwards, taking the form of a person's head and shoulders, the rest cascaded down like midnight black satin.

"I. Am. _Six_," it breathed, voice like gravel being ground into fine powder. "_Six_."

"Like, _gangway!" _Shaggy screamed, snatching Scooby Doo by the collar and bolted from the room. "_Help!_" he shrieked, _"Help!" _It pursued them, switching lights on and off throughout the crimson red hallway, anointed with portraits of family members. The spirit continued after them, throwing the portraits of the walls, glass soaring in every direction. "Like, keep running, Scoob!" Shaggy yelled, not bearing enough courage to look back. The figure appeared once more, sending fallen glass darting through the air once more, a large shard landing in the back of Shaggy's neck. It sent him tumbling to the floor, knocking over Scooby as well.

"Rhaggy! Rour reck!" Scooby cried, pawing at the glass in his friend's neck.

"Like, leave it, Scoob. The doc needs to, like, remove it. We'll just hurt it more." Shaggy squeaked as he scrambled upwards, pain surging through his body. "Just _run!_" As the duo took off once again, neither of them saw the table at the end of the hallway skid into the middle of the walkway, just above the stairs. As they rounded the corner, they collided head-on with the wooden table, which broke upon impact, sending them spiraling down the stairs, and shook the piece of glass in Shaggy's neck loose and fell with them. Blood fell loose down the teen's shirt as they landed on the fourth floor. "Keep going, Scooby Doo! Keep _going!_ Zoinks!" Shaggy gasped as he saw the apparition appear at the top at the stair case.

XXX

"Did you hear that thud, Freddy?" Daphne gulped, grabbing the blonde's arm.

"No, Daph. What thud?"

"I heard something hit the floor above us." Daphne's voice became increasingly concerned.

"I'm sure it was nothing. C'mere spirits, spirits, spirits!"

Daphne stopped in her tracks, dropping Fred's arm. "Sure, nothing there. And calling the ghost like a kitten's going to work?"

Fred turned to face the redhead, the flashlight's beam dancing around her face. "Would you happen to have a better idea?"

"Well, yes I do!" Daphne turned, passing Fred, walking the direction of the stairs. "I'm going to see what hit the fourth floor."

"No- Daphne… Wait for me!" Fred scrambled down the hall and joined the ginger on the staircase.

As the couple climbed the staircase, it became apparent to them that someone or some_thing_ was moaning. "Daph, what exactly is the plan if that's the ghost?"

Daphne stopped and glared. "You're the man with the plan. Start thinking."

Fred was, needless to say, speechless. He'd _never_ been without a plan. "Well, I- um-" As they grew closer to the top of the fourth floor, each step creaked more, as if it were in pain. But they heard something else as well- a distinct moan.

"_Jeepers!_" Daphne cried as she climbed the last step, "It's Shaggy!"

XXX

"Serg, pull up the film from the fifth floor," Velma instructed, pushing up her glasses. "I thought I just saw something."

"Sure thing." Serg scratched his head as he pulled up the footage. "What camera, and what time frame?"

"I'd like to see all the cameras, but try the past two minutes." Velma scooted forward on her seat as the footage started to roll.

_Shaggy and Scooby seemed to be running for their lives, both of them screaming as lights flickered off and on, on and off, framed pictures flew off the walls. _

"_Help!" Shaggy shrieked as he and Scooby darted down the hall, "Help!" Scooby began to slip behind, leaving him closer to the figure that was slinking down the hall after the duo. "Like, keep running, Scoob!" A slight burst of power allowed Scooby to somewhat catch up with Shaggy, only to be sent scattering on account that Shaggy had tumbled to the ground. _

"Wait!" Velma cried out, startling Serg. "Rewind that!"

"W-what exactly are you looking for?" Stumbled Serg, attempting to regain his composure.

"Go back to the part right before Shaggy fell."

The tape _buzzed _as it rewound, Serg _clicked_, telling it to halt, and allowed the tape to run once more.

"Can you zoom in, Serg?" Velma pestered. Serg grunted in sheer annoyance, clicking several times on the screen, allowing it to zoom in on the lanky teenager and the Great Dane. She slapped her self mentally, remembering something else she had wanted Serg to do. "Oh, and Serg? Could yo-"

"Slow motion? Got it." Velma could tell clearly now that Sergey was, _very, very_ annoyed. He fiddled with the keys until the motion picture slowed down.

_Shaggy was running, Scooby close on his heels. Out of the corner of the camera angle, something flew across the screen. As the duo on screen were chased in and out of the shadows, and the flying object disappeared. _

Relieved that whatever she saw had vanished, Velma relaxed, sitting back slightly. She then leaned over to turn off the recording when a ghastly scream shook her from her chair. Her eyes fled back to the computer screen, only to see Shaggy lying on the floor, something lodged in his neck.

"_Stop!" _Velma cried out from the floor. Serg slammed his hand onto the space bar, pausing the video. Velma pulled herself off the floor, sat down on the edge of her seat, inspecting the film closely. "What's that stuck in Shaggy's neck?"

Serg leaned in. "It appears to be-"

A sudden outburst ended their conversation. "Call an ambulance!" It was Daphne. "Call 911!"

"What?" Serg questioned, ripping off his headphones, standing up and walking out to the living room, as the cry for help had not come from any surveillance camera. "What happened?"

"Shaggy's been stabbed!" Fred exclaimed, holding a limp Shaggy in his arms. Blood covered his neck, and the upper area of the back of his shirt. Fred's left hand, which was clutching Shaggy's neck, was also covered in blood. _Shaggy's blood_.

Daphne was already on the phone, frantic as she could possibly be. "M-m-my friend's b-been s-s-st-stabbed! A soft murmur could be heard on the other end of the phone, "We found him upstairs, covered in blood-" She continued to tell the 911 operator everything, hysterically crying all the while.

XXX

"Keep applying pressure!"

"Apply the antiseptic! Faster!"

"Is the IV in? Administer 50 milligrams of Dilaudid!"

Lying on a cot in the Emergency Department, Shaggy could not distinguish anyone's voice. He was unaware of who anyone was, and barely understood that he was receiving treatment in a hospital.

As the administrating nurse pushed the fluid through Shaggy's veins, his head began to spin. He felt as though he was floating, slipping away.

"He's flat-lining!"


	2. Chapter 2

_His eyes opened. People were all around him, scrambling about, saying things he could not understand. Feeling frightened, he lifted himself up, looking around. Darting from the room, he nearly fell over himself when he saw people he knew he loved dearly. Someone in a white, long coat stood in front of them. His beloved ones and the white-coated man were conversing, that much he could tell. The ones he loved most were distraught, tears freefalling, bodies shaking… _

"Shaggy!" Someone shook the teen. "_Shaggy!"_ Tears trickled down his face slowly. "Shaggy!" His eyes slowly opened; tears stinging. "…Shaggy?"

Velma stared down at Shaggy, who was started to wake. He'd had an allergic reaction to the pain medication that had been administered, causing him to flat-line. Velma hadn't cried in years, but at the thought of Shaggy dying, all hell broke loose.

"Like, what happened?" Shaggy's voice echoed throughout the room.

"You almost died." Fred responded. "You had an allergic reaction to the medication you were given."

Shaggy didn't respond. He turned away, looking for any sign of Scooby Doo.

"The hospital, has, an uh, no animals policy." Velma clarified, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Like, of _course_." Shaggy grumbled in annoyance. He turned again, this time facing the window.

Velma glanced over at Daphne and Fred, rolling her eyes towards the door. Fred nodded, taking Daphne, who apparently didn't get the message, by the hand. Once they had left the room, Velma sat herself on the edge of the hospital bed. Feeling the movement, Shaggy peeked over, and then pulled the sheet up to his chin.

Seeing that Shaggy wanted no part of the impending conversation, Velma took it upon herself to initiate it. "I know you _really_ don't want to talk about this-"

"Like, then, don't." Shaggy whipped back, sinking himself deeper into the bedding.

"_Shaggy Rogers_, this is one thing I won't let you run away from."

"I am, like, not running away."

"Just _stop_." Velma wrapped a tight grip around Shaggy's ankle. "Stop." She leaned over, pushing Shaggy's messy hair from his eyes. "I can see what this is doing to you." Shaggy didn't resist this time, just stared.

"No one's, like, ever seen, _that_." Shaggy finally squeaked out. "Can you, like, leave now?"

XXX

"Director's Log: In light of Shaggy's attack, I am beginning to rethink the strategy for this investigation. While there is no current status on Shaggy's condition, I am led to expect the worst from eyewitness accounts. I have asked Mrs. Berkshire to leave the property, as well as sent Heather and Katrina to a nearby hotel. The only remaining members of the team are Serg and myself. It's time to call in a priest." Ryan placed the tape recorder on the kitchen table, looking around. And to himself, added: "And quickly."

"Ryan!" Serg called, dashing into the kitchen, laptop in hand, and eerily felt that he and Ryan were both being watched. He glanced around rather nervously, "I found something on one of the cameras we planted in the fifth floor hallway." He set the laptop on the counter. "This is worse than we thought, Ryan."

The only word to describe the look on Ryan Buell's face at that moment was quizzical. "What do you mean?" Stepping up to the counter, he said, "Show me." Sergey pulled up last night's footage, only seconds before Shaggy was attacked.

"I've played with the noise in the background, so you'll only hear… This." He spoke the last word as he carefully clicked play.

Ryan leaned in over the small computer, eyes widening. "Is that saying what I think it's saying…?"

"Yeah, Ryan. It's- well, _they're_, back."

XXX

"Hello, I'm calling for Father Bob Bailey- is he in?" Katrina spoke hesitantly into the phone.

"_This is Father Bob." _

"This is Katrina calling from the Paranormal Research Society. We need you to perform a house blessing. _Immediately." _

"_What seems to be the matter, Katrina?"_

"Do you remember the demon you exorcised the last time we asked for you?"

"_Well, yes-"_

"It's back. And it almost killed an investigator."

"_What's the address?"_ Katrina fired off the location, while motioning to Heather that she should call Ryan and inform him of the impending blessing.

XXX

"Now Mr. Rogers, whatever activity you were involved in that lead to this, _unusual _wound of yours, I would refrain from it." The doctor instructed as she removed Shaggy's IV line. "Your stitches are waterproof, but don't scrub them excessively while showering. Here are you post-release care instructions." She handed him a packet of yellow papers stapled together. One line stuck out to him. '_Patient received 37 stitches'_. "You're free to leave, Mr. Rogers." The doctor left the room allowing Shaggy some time alone with his thoughts.

As Shaggy pulled his pants on, the reoccurring thought washed down upon him that he would die a virgin. Something he had been afraid of since early teenhood. Surely he would find someone, but someone who he could trust that much? _'Maybe celibacy is a blessing in disguise.' _He thought to himself. _'Maybe I'm supposed to have, like, dogs all my life- Or maybe. Or maybe there's, like,… Velma?' _He scoffed. _'I'm mistaken for a stoner and, like, everyone believes I have the intelligence of a sewer rat. I'm surprised Velma even, like, looks at me. Then why did she, like, try to talk to me so, like, powerfully?' _The lanky teen let his shirt fall and cascade down his back. He plopped himself down on the bed, pulling on his shoes. He could feel his neck sting as he bent over to tie his shoes. _'That means… I'll have to, like, talk about… Morning wood.' _ Shaggy moaned softly as he stood up, clutching his papers. It had only been a couple of hours since the gang had last visited, and had a gut feeling they had not left the hospital. Stepping from the room, he peered his head around, trying to gain some idea to where the gang went off to. Not far off to the right, he spotted Velma sitting in a wheelchair, gazing out the window.

"Like, Velma!" Shaggy called out to his friend. "Velma!" Velma perked up momentarily, and then upon realizing it was Shaggy, she turned away again, staring out the window. "Like, Velma Dinkley! I'm, like, talking to you!" He hurried his pace, growing closer and closer to her. "_Velma!_" He sounded exasperated when he finally reached the chair. "Like,-" he huffed. "Velma."

"_What_." She snapped, finally turning around.

Now he was really stuck. He'd gotten her attention. Now what? "Uh... Hi?"

Velma was clearly not amused. "_Hi_?"

Shaggy shoved his hands into his pockets, in which he felt several holes. "Like, yeah." He tried to start a conversation, but Velma only drew further away from him. He took another step, and she picked herself up from the wheelchair, beginning to retreat down the hall. "Did I, like, do something wrong?" Shaggy asked, clueless as Velma's pace began to quicken.

Shaggy's head slumped down in pure shame. He started the long, lonely walk down the hospital corridor, becoming a moving wallflower. Nurses, doctors and patients scurried about. Some calm, some panicked. Shaggy noticed as he passed one room, a sheet being placed over the pale face of a patient, while in another room someone was just being admitted. He absentmindedly searched for any sign of Velma, but to no avail. It appeared as though she had vanished.

As Shaggy trudged along, his hospital bracelet bounced lightly on his skin. Each time he took a step it turned a tad, allowing Shaggy to read just a little bit more about himself each time. _Norville Rogers, 21. Male. _He passed another room, the occupant a mother with her children sitting on her bed with her. He felt a hard hit to his heart. Would _he_ ever be a father? Hold _his_ newborn child? Feel _his_ child kick in their mother's belly? Film their birth? He finally arrived at the end of the hall, presented with the choice of elevator or stairs. He opted for the three flights of stairs, which would give him more time to think.

As he began to descend the first flight of steps, Shaggy felt overcome by absolute isolation, depression, rage. His chest swelled with warmth with each breath he took, each step grew louder each time down. Thoughts raced through his mind. '_When's the last time I talked to my sister? Mom and Pops? Went to Thanksgiving dinner with my __**real**__family?- The gang __**is **__my family!_ By himself, with only his input, Shaggy could feel only alone. Each thought was louder, angrier than the last, and by the second flight of steps his head was tender to the touch. _'Does the gang even appreciate me? What would they be without me? Everything they are now and more, of course.' _With this last thought, Shaggy felt a tear rip through his face as he remembered their senior year of high school when a junior had taken his life by stepping in front of an expressway train. The school itself had its own funeral only for the student body. Would the gang do that for _him? _By the final flight of stairs, Shaggy's head was pounding, debilitating his ability to walk properly. His head, neck and shoulders were slumped over even more, giving Shaggy the appearance that he was sleepwalking or heavily intoxicated. Not that he cared. In fact, he could go for a beer, or five. The pain from his freshly stitched wound being stretched radiated throughout his upper body, which only enraged him more. By the last step, Shaggy was long gone.

When he stepped out of the stairwell, he jumped at the sound of a feminine scream. He whipped up his head, giving him a strong reminder of his puncture wound. "Get this baby out of _me!_" Someone screamed, making Shaggy's eyes dart around. _'Baby?' _Flying in the doorway and into the main lobby was a woman fresh out of an ambulance, presumably the one just outside the doors. She was perched on the edge of a wheelchair, being pushed by a frantic EMT, who needless to say, was slightly rattled by a screaming woman in childbirth. The woman was clutching her largely protruding stomach, an evident expression of pain on her face. Shaggy could only watch as the woman reared her head back in sheer pain. "This baby is coming_ now!" _She screamed, kicking her legs as the EMT hurriedly scrambled to push the wheelchair to the nearest elevator as the woman continued to shriek. At the thought of a new life only being moments away, Shaggy's anger melted away, leaving the teen with a slight smile on his face.

XXX

"Father, can you perform a blessing?" Ryan questioned the priest as they made their way around the Berkshire home.

"Ryan, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you." The priest removed his glasses, looking the team leader straight in the eyes. "A house blessing, no matter how comforting, is not going to help in this situation."

A part of Ryan died. A house blessing was always their first step with demonic cases. And this entity was definitely demonic. "Then what are the options?"

To be able to determine this, the priest took the liberty of sitting down. After several false starts to answers, he finally spat out: "I'm not quite sure what sure what we _can_ do."

"Father," Ryan was becoming quite frantic. "Mrs. Berkshire has full faith in the Catholic religion-"

"Do not perceive my words wrong," Father Bailey paused. "Her faith is placed in a secure place. We could make the house so holy the entity would have no choice but to flee."

"Father, are you suggesting we exorcise the _house_?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

"Has something of this nature even been _conceived, _let alone carried out?"

"That, my son, I am unaware of. But if what you are relaying to me is correct, your client has absolutely _nothing_ do lose and everything to gain."

"But Father, how will such a thing work?" Now Ryan was genuinely confused.

"Like a fine-tuned clock. But everyone has to pitch-in."

XXX

Gathered in the foyer of the grand home were Ryan, Father Bailey and Mrs. Berkshire, who had returned to the property per request of Ryan. "What we are attempting to do here, Mrs. Berkshire," Ryan began, looking over at Father Bailey for assistance, "Is exorcise your home."

The elderly woman gasped, reaching out to clasp her cross pendant. "Isn't there any other way?"

"Mrs. Berkshire," Father Bailey started, taking the woman's vein-ridden hand. "Only the Holy Father himself can kill a demon. And He knows what is happening here."

"Then God shall rid my home of the demon?" Mrs. Berkshire was beginning to become confused, as Ryan had.

Father Bailey took the woman's other hand as well. "We are going to work hand-in-hand, with the Father to give you peace."

Mrs. Berkshire was beginning to form a slight smile. "How do we proceed?"

Father Bailey opened the Holy Bible that he always carried with him. "Everyone one of us, in this house will read from the Scriptures, commanding the entity leave this house protected by God."

As Father Bailey continued to explain the procedure to Mrs. Berkshire, Ryan took the opportunity to excuse himself and return to the upstairs den, where Heather and Sergey were currently setting up the technical headquarters for the night's dead time, and impending exorcism.

"How we doing, guys?" Ryan questioned, knocking on the door and stepping inside.

"So far so good," piped Heather, giving a thumbs up from underneath PRS' travel table. She appeared to be scrambling around underneath the table plugging in any wires that Sergey placed down. "Almost ready for dead time." The brunette moved suddenly, accidentally whacking her head into the table. "Any word on Shaggy?" She posed the question as she climbed out from underneath the table, rubbing her head.

"I haven't heard anything." Frowning, he returned to the case at hand. "We will start dead time at midnight this time."

"Why so early, Ryan?" Serg asked, appearing with a box full of electronics equipment, presumably from a closet. "We usually start dead time later than that."

"Exorcisms can take up twelve hours. Some take even longer than that. We need all the time we can get."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: If the gang seems OOC here, it's because this situation has never been presented and I'm trying to present this situation, have the gang react as I thought they would. **_

_**Oh, and have I mentioned that I DON'T own Scooby Doo? **_

_**Dedicated to: Kelly of the midnight dawn**_

"I have asked you all here," Father Bailey began, "because I would like to know your faith."

"Why, exactly, do you need to know that?' Fred questioned the priest.

"It may affect your ability to fight the demon in tonight's dead time. So Mr. Jones, what is your faith?"

"I was brought up in the Roman Catholic church, Father."

"Were you confirmed?"

"Yes, Father." Fred responded, intertwining his hand with Daphne's.

Noticing this, Father Bailey asked, "Have either yourself or Ms. Blake practiced devil worship or worshipped Satan?" The thought of worshipping such an evil creature as Satan himself frightened Daphne. She frantically shook her head no, as did Fred. "And what is your faith, Ms. Blake?"

"I was also raised and confirmed Catholic." She attempted to smile, but given the circumstances, all she felt she could do was squeeze Fred's hand harder.

Father Bailey smiled slightly, nodded, and reached into a bag beneath the tech table. Unzipping it, he pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. He opened it, and dabbed his fingers in the liquid. Walking over to the couple, he spread the liquid on Fred's forehead, and then on Daphne's. "I anoint you both with holy water. May you both be protected in battle." Fred responded by crossing himself, while Daphne mouthed a small 'thank you' and bowed her head in prayer. Satisfied with his work, Father Bailey then turned to Velma, who was sitting by herself behind the tech table. "Now, Ms. Dinkley, what is your faith?"

Velma had never been an overly religious person. She had barely accepted religion at all, but to put matters simply, science did not explain what happened after death. Religion did. But she felt rather uncomfortable speaking about religion with preacher of a religion that was not hers. Smoothing her skirt, she cleared her throat. "I am, uh…" She pushed her glasses up her nose. "I was raised Jewish." Then, remembering how Fred had addressed the priest, quickly added: "Father."

"Do not be ashamed, Ms. Dinkley." Father Bailey also anointed Velma's forehead with holy water, but in place of a cross, he anointed her with the Star of David. "Now, what about your friend, the boy who was attacked?" The three friends took a long look at each other. Shaggy had never discussed religion with them. It was just something that had never been mentioned. Father Bailey hung his head. "Is your friend a non-believer?" From under the table, Scooby began to growl at the mention of this prospect.

"_Scooby!" _Fred scolded harshly. Scooby whimpered in reply, ears going flat against his head.

Father Bailey took another step, looking primarily at Fred. "Is Mr. Rogers a Satanist?"

That infuriated poor Velma. Standing up, she spoke angrily: "It's time for you to leave." Her sheer firmness frightened Daphne and Fred, who both sat with eyebrows raised and jaws dropped. Though the priest was angered by Velma's outburst, he bowed goodbye and quickly exited the room.

Fred made a beeline for Velma as soon as Father Bailey left the room, leaving Daphne sitting on the den couch to think. "Velma, what the _hell_ are you thinking?" Fred scolded. "I'm not sure how the Jews do it, but we do not insult a man of God!"

Velma cocked an eyebrow. "How the _Jews_ do it?" She crossed her arms. "Okay, you fucking _Nazi_, listen closely. Since when did _you_ become a disciple? And furthermore, I am not defined by my religion. I am not just a Jew. I am _Velma. _Remember? The one who carries all your slack when your plans fall through! The one who hears you fucking Daphne every night! It gets _old_, Fred." She was red in the face by now, breathing heavily.

As her boyfriend and Velma argued, Daphne had noticed a portrait along the far wall, of Mrs. Berkshire and her presumably late husband, as she was in her late 70s and he was not mentioned nor around. _'God, that damn painting is nagging at me._' She thought. _'What the hell is it trying to tell me?' _She glanced back at Fred and Velma, who were both screaming quite violently, swearing, insulting and throwing their fingers around like kindergarten teachers. _'That's it!' _

"You like him, don't you?" Daphne shouted, and then upon realizing what she had said, covered her mouth, blushing furiously.

They had both been staring at Daphne, but now, turning back towards the enraged brunette, Fred couldn't tell if she was red due to anger or embarrassment. It all made sense, why she had been so protective, staring at him and such. "You _do, _don't you." Fred accused. "That's why… Everything makes sense."

"And what if I _do?_ Is that so wrong?" Velma spat back. Feeling cornered, she took a step backwards.

"I can't believe you wouldn't tell me something like this!" Daphne gasped, clutching her ascot.

"I can't believe you thought no one would hear you two going at it like rabbits!" The bespectacled brunette spat back, pointing at the couple.

He creaked the door open, slipping in quietly enough so Serg, Heather and Ryan would not be disturbed in the kitchen. The last thing he wanted to do was explain the "how are you feeling" and "were you treated nicely at the hospital" speeches. Making a muffled beeline for the stairs, he heard shouting coming from upstairs. Hoping to gain insight into the argument, he paused, listening as best as he could.

"I cannot believe you would accuse Shaggy of all people of devil-worship!" It was Velma. He sank backwards into the wall.

"Do _you_ have a better explanation?" Now came Fred's voice. The thought that his friend could actually believe such a thing angered him to no end.

"How about _you_ shut your face and actually realize what you're saying!" Velma's voice was becoming more enraged with every word. He took another step up the stairs, and then another for good measure.

A scoff came across the hall. "How do we know _you're _not one of them? What, with all those candles and books you keep with you!"

A crash serenaded the home, sending him darting up the stairs and into the den. The table of computers had collapsed, Velma underneath. Seeing what had happened, Fred offered his hand to Velma, which enraged the man at the door.

"Like, keep your paws off her."

"_Shaggy!" _Velma gasped, pulling herself out from underneath the pile of electronics.

"Shag- when did you get out-" Fred stumbled.

Shaggy came nose to nose with the tall blonde. "You stay away from her." His voice was unlike anything the gang had ever heard, angry, monotonous, evil. Shaggy stalked over to Velma, offering her his hand. "C'mon, Scoob." He summoned the Great Dane to follow them, leading Velma out of the room by the hand.

Once outside, Shaggy let her hand fall, but she held him back. "Shaggy!" Stumbling backwards from recoil, he fell into Velma's embrace. Hands curled around each other's waists, faces only inches apart, his breath fogging her glasses. Seeing this, Scooby bumped Shaggy in the rear, causing his upper half to tip towards. Velma gripped his shirt, preventing a fall down the stairs. He could feel her lips, and he wanted more. Putting his neck into it, their lips making full contact. Peeling back, Shaggy could see Velma was blushing heavily. She was gripping his shirt tighter now, signaling him to come back. They both leaned in this time, holding each other firmly. Shaggy could feel her tongue slowly slipping in, liquids tingling like tequila. Pushing further, Shaggy pried her mouth open with his tongue, returning the favor. Taken by surprise, Velma slipped forward, sending Shaggy careening into the wall, Velma landing on his lap.

"Raw…" Scooby cooed. "Rhaggy rand Relma rittin' in a ree- RAY RI RES RES RI REN GEE."

"Like, Scoob, really?" Shaggy scolded. Velma laughed at the Great Dane's antics, which caused Shaggy to smile.

"Can you forgive me _now_?" Velma giggled. Shaggy could only smile.

"Hey Velma," Shaggy was looking right at her. "I'm not, like, a devil-worshipper."

"I know, Shaggy. I know."


	4. Chapter 4

"Commence dead time." Ryan's words struck fear into everyone's hearts, especially Shaggy. Just a day earlier, when dead time commenced, he'd been attacked and nearly killed. For this round of ghost hunting, Shaggy was placed on tech duty, as the ghost had attacked him previously, with Velma taking his place in the field. Daphne and Fred were still also actively participating, and the couple had not talked to Shaggy since their argument earlier that day.

At technical headquarters, Scooby Doo had flat-out refused to leave Shaggy's side, making a member of PRS take his place. Eilfie was assigned to the task, and she and Velma at least tolerated each other, which at this point, was all anyone could ask for. Through one of the cameras, Shaggy could see Eilfie and Velma wandering the corridors of the fourth floor, Velma inspecting each hanging painting carefully, while Eilfie attempted to contact the spirit.

"If there's someone here, we want to talk to you," Eilfie called out to the darkness cascading down the hall. "Can you show us that you're here? Move something? Touch someone? Say something?" Silence.

Velma was too busy focusing on a hanging picture to notice Eiflie's antics. She paused, taking careful inventory of each detail in the picture. "Eilfie," she paused. "How long has this home been in the Berkshire family?"

"I'm not quite sure, why?" Eilfie turned to face her colleague.

"Because these images were developed in the 1800s. That's far longer than any human could live, and yet- that appears to be Mrs. Berkshire herself." Velma pointed to the left side of the portrait.

Eilfie took a closer look, approaching the picture in an almost cautious manner. "Are you sure that's not a relative?" Eilfie raised her glasses slightly above her eyes, altering her vision. "But they look… Almost…"

"Identical?" Velma finished.

Eilfie was truly stumped. Taking out her portable radio, she spoke hesitantly. "Tech?"

In technical headquarters, Sergey was the first to reach the base-end of the radio. "Go ahead, Elf."

Shaggy and Serg could barely make the woman's voice out over the static. "Ow… ong… Berksh… liv… ere?" _How long have the Berkshires lived here? _

"Uh… That was never determined." Serg gave the vague answer with guilt, knowing it wouldn't help his teammate in the least bit.

"_Come on_, Fred." Daphne snapped, pushing him into the wall so she could move by. "We're supposed to be _working_."

The royal bitching via Daphne had been ringing through Fred's ears for the better part of the hour now. "Daphne just stop. It's not my fault you figured out she had the hots for him!"

Daphne, who had been stalking down the hallway, stopped in her tracks. "_Fred Jones_, you're the one who was a completely psycho around her!"

"Is it my fault someone's temper matches her hair?" Fred's temper was growing as well. As if they were getting ready to fight, the couple took steps closer and closer, faces only inches apart.

"Is it _my _fault someone forgot the fucking condom?" Daphne spat, slapping her boyfriend.

Fred was taken aback. "W-what?" He began to stutter incoherently. "You're-"

Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by a loud crash which seemed to come from the end of the hall. Deciding not to answer her lover, she turned to investigate, leaving a slightly zombified Fred slumped against the wall. Slinking down the corridor, Daphne made sure to peek her head into each room. Every room looked the same to her, bed jutting out from the right wall, a night stand and a dresser. _'Are they __**all **__bedrooms?' _she thought to herself quietly. After examining what appeared to be close to ten bedrooms, the redhead stopped, looking back on the hall, which to her dismay, appeared to have not gotten any longer than when she had left Fred. She continued, delving farther and farther down the hall, and upon finally reaching the end, found that someone or some_thing_ had knocked over a lamp. Looking to her left, she saw and heard a door flapping open with the wind, which struck her as odd- because there was no way for any wind to reach the door. Against her better judgment, she left Fred behind, reaching out with a shaking hand, loosely grasping the door knob. Opening it cautiously, she felt her entire body began to shake. "H-he-hello?" She stammered. Unable to see any of the room's contents, she shined the ray of the flashlight directly inside, afraid of what the room contained.

In the room were boxes upon boxes upon boxes. Dozens of them, stacked haphazardly. Perching precariously on the balls of her feet, Daphne crept in, shining the lights everywhere first before walking there. Upon doing so, she found that one box was open, and tip-toed over to investigate. Holding the flashlight with one hand, she felt down in the container, feeling for the first object she could pull up. Seeing that the contents were papers, Daphne picked up the first one, holding the flashlight close to the page so that the ray of light was clear for reading.

_Certificate of Death: _

_Elizabeth Berkshire, age 5. _

_Born: Oct. 13, 1893_

_Died: Oct. 13, 1898 _

_Cause of Death: Strangulation _

Daphne was taken aback by these findings. The client, Mrs. Berkshire, claimed to have a daughter named Elizabeth, who was attacked by whatever was haunting the house. _'Could it be the same person…´ _She pondered to herself. Something else seemed odd to the redhead as well: the date of birth and death. October 13th. _'This little girl died on her birthday.' _She folded the document into a small square and inserted it into her front pocket. She then reached into the box for the next document, pulling out yet another death certificate, this time for a Claire Berkshire, who had died seven years after Elizabeth, also on October 13th. Reaching to her back pocket, she scrambled for her radio, beginning to panic.

"Shaggy?" Daphne squeaked, hands shaking.

"_Hey Daph, it's Serg." _She could barely make out his voice over the static.

"What's Mrs. Berkshire's first name?" Daphne found herself gasping for air, not even remembering the feud she was currently in with Shaggy.

"_Like, let's see here… Client information… Claire?" _

Daphne let out a short scream, dropping the radio. "Oh my God. Holy Jesus…"

"_Daphne, what happened? Is it something I said?" _

Not bothering with the radio, Daphne took off running, one death certificate in hand, the other in her pocket. "_Freddy!" _She screamed. _"Freddy! _My god Fred, it's _real! _There's no mask this time!" Her footsteps shook the centuries old mansion as she stampeded down the hall, continuing to shout.

"Shaggy, there's something seriously wrong up there." Serg sounded panicked, moving the microphone away from his mouth.

Though Shaggy was genuinely concerned, he wasn't sure whether to show it due to his anger towards his friends. "Like, what happened?" He gulped, signaling he _was_ worried.

"Daphne lost it, but she wouldn't tell me why. Her radio malfunctioned, and we've lost contact."

Beside Shaggy's feet, Scooby's ears were perked up, and he began to whine. Placing his head on Shaggy's foot, he got to thinking. Realizing a useful tactic, Scooby shot up, shoving his head into his friend's pockets.

"Scooby Doo, what the _hell _are you doing?" Shaggy asked quizzically, as Scooby shoved his head further into the pocket, and closer to his privates than was comfortable. Scooby opened his jaws and returned for air with Shaggy's cell phone, dropping it on his lap.

"Rall Raphne!" He barked, wagging his tail. Cocking an eyebrow, Shaggy did as he was told, dialing the redhead.

"_We're sorry, but your party cannot be reached at this time. Please try again later." _

"Roh rap."

"Hold up, did your dog just _talk_?" Serg's jaw was hanging wide.

"Yeah, he, like, does that." Shaggy advised, getting up from the chair.

"Daphne, it's always someone in a mask. It's just logical."

"Fred, for the love of God, this _isn't _logical. This is real! It tried to kill Shaggy! And _it_ is the client! We need to get out of here!"

"_We?" _Fred paused for a moment, grasping Daphne's shoulder. "Daphne, are you pregnant?" Daphne pulled away, continuing to walk down the hall. Fred bolted after her, taking her wrist. "Answer me." He turned her around, placing his hand on her stomach. "Are you carrying my child?"

Moving backwards, Daphne turned, grabbing the camera planted into the crown molding. She ripped it out of the wall, giving it a good toss down the corridor. "Yes, Fred. I am pregnant. With your child." She pushed him away once more, only to be caught by the wrist.

"When were you planning on telling me? _Were_ you going to tell me?" Fred rarely found himself as angry as he was now. Wrenching free of her lover, Daphne backed away slowly. "How long, Daphne?"

Dipping her head, she allowed her headband to fall from her scalp, her fiery locks swallowing her face. "Twelve weeks."

"Three… _months?_" The blonde shoved the redhead's shirt upwards, exposing her stomach. "You're showing… Jesus Christ."

"Freddy-" she reached out for him, but only managed to grasp his ascot.

"That's my baby in there. Why didn't you tell me? How long have you known?" Fred was beginning to stutter, sliding down the wall.

"I've only known for a few weeks- I had no idea how to break the news."

"I want to keep the baby, Daphne. Please. I might _never _get the chance again to be a father."

"I don't know, Fred-"

"_Daphne!_ We're Catholic, you can't abort our child!"

"I guess the Pope will have to make an exception!"

"Please. Just… please."


	5. Chapter 5

"Fred," Shaggy called out, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder. Too tired to even speak, Fred turned to face the beatnik. His eyes were sunken, after a hard fought battle with Daphne over the possibility of an abortion. Shaggy paused before jutting out his hand and declaring: "Truce, man?"

Smiling as best as he could, he grabbed Shaggy's hand. "Truce."

Shaggy took a long, hard look at his friend. "Like, what's up, dude?"

"What'dya mean, Shag?"

"Fred, you look like a zombie." Shaggy cocked an eyebrow.

The blonde took a step closer to his friend, motioning for him to take a step in as well. After looking around to make sure no one, _especially_ Daphne, was around, he let it out. "Daphne's…. Daphne… is… Pregnant."

Shaggy's other eyebrow joined the first, while his jaw seemed to be at his feet. "Man, I didn't know you guys were _that_ serious."

"Neither did I."

"What's the plan, now?"

Now Fred looked genuinely confused. "Shaggy, I _don't have a plan._ I just…" He laughed slightly. "Not quite sure what to do. I want to keep the baby, but Daphne wants to abort."

Shaggy frowned. "I'm no good at this lovey dovey stuff, Fred, but you gotta tell her what _your_ wishes are."

XXX

"Ma'am, I'm _sorry_, but I cannot perform the procedure. It's too risky for _your _health."

"Why, doctor, _why_?"

"You have what is known as _placenta accreta_. The placenta is what helps give the fetus oxygen and nutrients, and it's too deeply embedded into your uterus for me to remove safely. I could quite possibly perforate your uterus. I'm sorry, Ms. Blake, but I'm afraid you'll have to go on with the pregnancy."

"Isn't there any way?"

"_No, _Ms. Blake. If my equipment perforates your uterus you could die. My office is not prepared for emergency surgery of that nature. I'm sorry, there's nothing more I can do."

XXX

Shaggy felt horrible for leaving a distraught Fred, but honestly had no idea how to console him. Frankly, if anyone had just told him they were carrying _his _child, he might be a little upset as well. So lost in thought, he didn't realize a certain brunette climbing down the stairs as he climbed up…

"_Shaggy!" _Velma gasped, tumbling and landing on his lap. Feeling something pushing upwards against her skirt, she scowled at the beatnik. "Put that thing away."

A blushing Shaggy reached into his pants, grabbing his member and relaxing it. "Like, sorry."

"_Shaggy Rogers!_" Velma gasped, covering her mouth.

"Like, did you want it taken care of or not?" Shaggy laughed.

Velma chuckled. "I suppose." She leaned in, stroking his goatee. "This thing tickles." Leaning in further, she pressed her lips to his. Shaggy reciprocated, placing his hands around her shoulders, leaning into the kiss, making it more passionate. A certain _bump _returned, causing Shaggy to blush. "What do we do about… us…?"

"Like, how about, we give it a try?"

"You mean… Have… _sex_?" Her voice became hushed.

Shaggy's eyes widened. "Um, like, that wasn't what I meant… But, like, do you want to?"

Now it was Velma's turn to go bug-eyed. "I've never… _fornicated _before."

"Forni-who-ha? Uh, how about we go on a _date_ first, man."

Velma blushed violently. "I… Uh… right."

Shaggy laughed, taking Velma by the hand. "Like, come on, _Ms. _Dinkley. We've got a date to keep."

Stunned, Velma stumbled upwards, allowing Shaggy to collect himself. He stood up, grasping the railing, and dusted himself off. "Like, come on, Velms. I know just the place." The lanky man reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys.

"Shaggy, what is _that_?" Velma had never known the man to be organized.

"A set of copy keys, which was unknown of by pretty much everyone, until now. Let's see, the house, the liquor cabinet, the Scooby snacks cabinet, ah- the Mystery Machine!" He held one key among the others. "Be _very_ quiet." He took Velma by the hand, carefully guiding her down the stairs, avoiding the creakiest of areas. Down below the duo could see Daphne and Fred in the adjoining room, presumably discussing her pregnancy, they stopped and waited for the ample moment to dart down the rest of the stairs.

"You _can't _get an abortion!" Fred cried out, loud enough for Shaggy and Velma to hear him, among Daphne's cries.

"Daphne's-" Velma began, only to be muffled by Shaggy.

"_Shhhh._" He scolded. "I'll, like, explain in the van."

XXX

"Freddy wants to keep it?" Velma asked as Shaggy drove. "And _where _are we going?"

"Apparently so. And, like, honestly, I have no clue. Some place _far_ away from there is _fine _by me. We haven't been driving for, like, _that_ long."

"Shaggy, we've been gone an hour and a half. And _that's _Freddy calling me for the 10th time- _Hello?" _Shaggy shook his head violently _no _as in _'No Fred, we don't have the Mystery Machine, and we don't have a copy of the keys to it, either.' _Velma got the gist, and informed Fred they were not with the van. She then conjured up a lie and told the blonde man she and Shaggy had gone off and walked to get dinner and catch a movie. That seemed to get Fred off the line, as the brunette soon hung up the phone.

"You know, I hate lying to him but, I think we needed to get away." Velma said solemnly.

"Yeah, man. I agree." Shaggy concurred as he made a left hand turn off the highway. "Hmm… I wonder what this little town is."

"Shaggy, where in Ohio are we?"

"We left Ohio about 45 minutes ago. We're in Pennsylvania now." Shaggy immediately slammed on the break as a group of what appeared to be beach goers darted out into the street. His arm flew out to hold back Velma who had begun to fly forward. Shaggy turned to see the brunette blushing deeply.

"Shaggy, you're touch… um… Your hand…"

He looked down slightly to see his hand had landed squarely on her chest. He whipped it back to the wheel, blushing deeper than Velma had, and mumbling even more incoherently.

"Shaggy look!" Velma broke his mumbling streak. "Welcome to North Plainfield." She read of road sign as they continued to drive. "Enjoy the greatest of the lakes." She paused, glaring at the driver. "You've brought me to the _great lakes_?"

Shaggy smiled slightly. "Like, apparently."

"_Norville Rogers. _You've known where we were going the whole time!" Velma accused. Thought Shaggy winced at hearing his actual name, he was smiling wildly.

"Like, guilty as charged."

"But we haven't got our swimsuits-"

"Check under your seat."

Leaning over, Velma pulled out Shaggy's trunks and Velma's white one piece. "How did you know how to get here? This place is…" She stopped, searching for the word. "Perfect."

"I used to come here with my parents as a little kid." He smiled again, thinking of the memory.

"_Used _to?" Velma questioned.

"Shugey was born here, and with a new child around, vacations, like, weren't an option."

Velma smiled. She fondly remembered Shaggy's younger sister, Maggie, or Shugey as she was known as a toddler. She'd been married about a year ago, and it was the only time Velma had seen Shaggy cry. Something about the way he was with his baby sister always told Velma that Shaggy would make a wonderful father. Not that she had ever shared this thought with anyone, not even Scooby- Doo.

"How is Maggie, anyway?"

"Good, she just called about a week ago. They're trying to get pregnant."

"And how is _that_ going?"

"How should _I _know? She's my sister, not _you_."

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean? You could just say girlfriend." Velma uncharacteristically giggled as a young child would.

Shaggy started blushing again. "I- I, uh, meant that she just tells me basic stuff, and you, uh, get into… uh…"

"Details." Velma finished.

"Like, yeah. But, uh, _girlfriend_ works too." He flashed a smile. To Velma's amazement, he _parallel parked _the Mystery Machine in a spot on the street, and could do nothing but stare at the lanky man. "What? I _do _have a driver's license."

"I didn't say anything…" Velma muttered sheepishly.

They climbed out of the van, and Shaggy took Velma by the waist. She reached up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm hungry." She wondered aloud.

"_What! _That's, like, _my_ line!" Shaggy exclaimed.

"I seem to have stolen it." Velma giggled again.

"Well, then, like, come on, then."

XXX

"I can't believe they would take off like that." Daphne mumbled to herself, holding her tiny bump of a stomach.

"But I have the keys, so how did they get the van?" Fred scowled.

"Beats me, but do you think Mrs. Berkshire has any bacon around?"

"B-bacon?"

"I'm craving bacon for some strange reason. Now, where would Shaggy and Velma _go _anyway?"

"Pregnancy. _Strange _reason." Fred chuckled. He then frowned upon remembering his two closest friends had just made off with his van. "I have no clue. Where _would _they go?"

"I'm gonna try Shag's phone." Daphne struggled to fit her hand down her pocket. "I… need… bigger pants." She grumbled as she finally got her phone out, dialed Shaggy's number and put the call on speaker phone. Placing the phone on her lap, she undid the jean button as well as undid the zipper, allowing her more breathing room. Fred could only stare, realizing that was his child in that tiny bump. The phone continued to beep, and suddenly clicked into call. "Shaggy!" The redhead exclaimed. Her declaration went unnoticed, evidently, as a conversation appeared to be happening in the background.

"_Like, a bottle of _**_the _**_finest wine you got!" _Shaggy's voice.

"Since when does Shaggy drink?" Daphne asked quizzically.

"Shhhh!" Fred scolded.

"_Shaggy, you wild man!" _The second voice appeared to be Velma's. There was a pause. _"Oh, I'd like the chicken parmesan, please." _

"_And, I'll, like, take the steak." _

Daphne snapped the phone shut. "Movies and pizza, huh? Since when do they serve wine at the cinema?"

"_Those _two? An _entire_ bottle of wine? They'll be in no shape to drive back." Fred growled furiously.

Fred turned to find Daphne leaning over to her belly, hand blocking his view. "Daddy's mad…" She giggled.

Fred cocked an eyebrow at her. "Daddy is _very_ mad."

XXX

"Shaggy, you hardly ate anything." Velma commented as they exited the restaurant, holding onto the man as the wine had given her a slight buzz. Velma was never very good with alcohol.

"Like, I did too. I had that nice steak dinner and some wine with you."

"Exactly. You barely ate."

"I was, like, on date, Velms."

"Aww… You didn't pig out for me? How sweet." She hopped up to kiss him.

They passed several shops, as wells as many beach goes, and dozens of couples. This made Velma glow inside, and she squeezed Shaggy's hand just a little bit harder. And thought she was slightly intoxicated, Velma did notice they were headed in the direction of which they had parked the Mystery Machine. She was right, as they arrived at the van within minutes. Shaggy unlocked it, and pulled open the back doors, and pulled out a cooler. He placed it in her hands and then proceeded to lock up the van again.

"Like, c'mon, Velma. I know just the place…"

Shaggy took Velma by the hand once again and he darted off down the side walk, dragging the young woman and the cooler with him. They eventually found themselves sliding upon the sand. Velma went toppling over, taking Shaggy with her. The cooler landed promptly in the sand next to them. Seeing that it was after nightfall by now, the beach was deserted. Shaggy scraped himself up, and scooped Velma up in his arms. She managed to grab the cooler as she was lifted. Apparently the wine had begun to affect Shaggy was well, he was giggling and laughing, talking incoherently. Velma was doing the same as Shaggy began to walk down the shoreline, the waves the only soundtrack to the seemingly perfect moment. For the two of them, they seemed to walk for hours, until sand had completely filled his shoes, and his knees crumbled outwards, Velma and himself tumbling downwards into an isolated cave, surrounded by sand dunes.

"What-wh-what's… In… what's in the c-c-cooler?" Velma slurred.

"Vod-_ka_." Shaggy smiled. Velma smiled back as she leaned in for a kiss, trying to grab a bottle of vodka at the same time and fell directly on top of Shaggy.


	6. Chapter 6

"Please, do not kill them."

"Daphne," Though Fred was thoroughly annoyed, he somehow maintained some sanity to deal with his girlfriend. "I am _not_ going to kill them."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "… I _completely_ believe that."

"I'm not. I'm going to lecture them as if they were kids."

"Freddie, we _are_ kids. Velma's even younger than the rest of us."

This was true. Velma's mother had once told them that due to Velma's rapid maturity and high intelligence as a toddler, it was recommended she begin schooling early, and began kindergarten at the tender age of three. Now, she was only nineteen. This seemed to come to Fred's mind, as his face darkened. "Velma can't drink, Daph."

Her eyes widened from shock. "Oh god, you're right. She can't."

"How the hell did they get alcohol without her being ID'd?"

"They ID'd Shag. Velma looks 21."

Fred was starting to become enraged. "They could have been arrested."

Daphne's jaw dropped. "Freddie, we couldn't get a hold of them all night long. Both their cell phones were turned off after nine."

"You don't think they really were locked up?" Fred looked a mix between genuine concern and anger.

"I don't know what to think, Freddie."

"They better _not _have driven the van while they'd been drinking. That I _will _kill them for."

"Freddie, they made a mistake. They didn't kill anybody."

"If Shaggy was driving drunk, they might have."

"Are you implying Velma is a good drunk driver?" Daphne began to subconsciously giggle.

Fred groaned. "Velma hates driving in the first place. She barely passed her road test, and hasn't driven since. That was when she was seventeen."

"I just hope they turn up soon. This isn't like them at all."

With his mouth open and the beginning of a sentence spilling out, the sound of brakes began screeching, volume increasing beyond the point of ignoring them. The blonde and the redhead glanced at each other; each wearing a different expression. Daphne, fear, Fred; anger.

"Fred." Daphne had removed herself from her spot on the couch. She was now standing, making her way towards him, arms crossed across her chest. "Remember your promise. No bodies." She was half smirking, but Fred could tell that the other half was completely serious. Fred had always had one rule: don't touch the van. No one had ever broken it. Until now.

This would not be pretty.

XxxxxX

"Fred is going to murder us."

"Keep your voice down, Shaggy!" Velma whispered in a harsh, hushed tone. "He's not even outside yet."

"Sorry." His volume lowered. He began whispering, "He really is going to kill us. I'll never eat a Scooby Snack again…"

"Oh shut up." Her face darkened. "I mean it. I have the worst hangover. I think it might become a migraine."

Shaggy closed his mouth, putting the Mystery Machine into park and wrenched the emergency brake upwards. He turned the engine off and opened the driver's door. There stood Fred.

"Care to explain yourselves?" He was clearly angry. "You smell like a liquor store, Shaggy."

Shaggy began to smile sheepishly. "We may have had a few drinks last night."

"A few? Shaggy do you remember last night at all?"

He squinted. He remembered driving the lake, and some of dinner…

"I'll take that as a no, Shag." Shaggy could have sworn Fred was actually turning red. "Did you remember that Velma can't legally drink?"

That factoid had slipped Shaggy's mind. "She chose to drink. We had wine at dinner. You of all people think I _forced _Velma to drink?"

"Shag, you had more than wine. You do not smell like _wine_."

"You think I forced her."

"You were drinking."

"I'm 21, I can have a damn drink, Fred."

"Velma isn't 21!"

"Do you really think I made Velma do anything she didn't want to do? Seriously."

"I think you should have been more responsible. You both could have been arrested. You could have been in an accident."

Shaggy now began to grow red as well. "Wait, wait, wait. You, like, think I drove, like, drunk?"

"Did you?"

"No, Fred. And, like, where is this responsibility persona coming from?"

"My two best friends took off without notice with _my _van. I'm allowed to be pissed."

"I, like, agree with that."

Xxxxxx

"You've never been drinking before have you, Velms?" Daphne was maintaining the ability to keep calm. Velma was bent over, sitting on the living room couch. She was massaging her temples, internally preparing herself for a lecture from Daphne.

"No, I haven't."

"Why would you? You're underage."

"Did that stop you, ever?" Velma was being completely serious, she was looking up at Daphne, eyes fixed on her face.

Daphne was forced to stop and think. In high school, when Velma was studying, Daphne was often partying, and yes, drinking. "No. No, Velma. It really didn't."

"Then what's the big idea?"

What _was_ the big idea? Velma had done nothing different from any other teenager. Was she mothering Velma?

"We were worried. You and Shaggy disappeared. Phones were turned off, the car was gone. We weren't sure what to think. Can you blame us?"

"We were fine."

Daphne had to give Velma that fact that illegal drinking was the least worrisome of the previous night's offenses, but agreeing that she was fine was not happening. "Where did you two even go?"

"Pennsylvania."

Daphne's eyes widened. "You went out of state with the van?" She took a deep breath, beginning to chuckle. "You've got more balls than I do, I'll give you that."

Velma looked up at Daphne in shock. "What?"

"You heard me. I couldn't have done that."

"Yes you could have. You're dating Fred."

The redhead's stomach flipped. Fred was certainly more than her boyfriend now. "Velma…. There's something you should know."

Velma readjusted her glasses, pushing them up her nose. "I know about the baby."

A flash of anger fell on Daphne. "How did you know? The only one I told was Fred."

"When Shaggy and I were leaving…" She paused, plucking fuzz off her sweater. "We heard you arguing about an abortion. You can only have an abortion if you're pregnant, so…"

"So what?"

"So, I'll support you either way. If you abort, or if you go through with the pregnancy." Velma was smiling. Only slightly, but it was definitely there.

Daphne had one tear sliding down her cheek. Just one. Velma would have seen it, if the lights hadn't gone out.

"Jeepers!"

"Jinkies!"

"I wonder what happened…" Daphne began to think aloud, absent-mindedly smoothing her dress, beginning to accept that in a few months' time she would probably never be able to wear it again.

"It's an old house, it probably wasn't built with electrical wiring; so someone had to install it afterwards… Giving how old Mrs. Berkshire is, I'd say it's been thirty years since she's had any kind of maintenance done. A fuse or transformer blew, most likely."

It was then that Daphne remembered the papers she had found in the closet while searching with Fred. "Uh… Velma… About Mrs. Berkshire…" She wasn't sure where to start with this, Velma was the most logical and thought-out person Daphne knew, she wasn't going to take this lightly. "During yesterday's dead time…"

"After we argued?"

"Yeah, I found something. Well two some-things actually. There was an old storage room up on the fourth floor and there were some boxes and well… I found these…" Daphne took the death certificates out of her pockets, and gave them to Velma.

Velma stood, taking the documents in hand. The held them up to the light, testing for their age and what kind of paper they were made out of. She examined the lettering closely. "In my opinion…"

'Yes?"

"They're real."

"Sergey told me that our client's name is Claire, and she already told us her daughter's name is Elizabeth. What do we do, Velma?"

"I'm not entirely convinced our client's this person. She may have been named after a family member."

"I'm not so sure. Shaggy was attacked, Scooby's scared more than usual, and PRS called in a priest!"

"I did some research, Daph. Apparently, that is their standard procedure."

"It's still frightening to me."

"I don't know what to make of this."

"PRS mentioned preforming an exorcism on the house."

"If this _is _real, Daphne…"

"How do we tell PRS that our client is our bad guy?"

"This isn't adding up. We need to regroup- just us."

XxxxX

The power was still out, though it had been several hours. Daphne had become very thankful for cell phone reception. She had managed to talk both Fred and Shaggy to stop fighting, just momentarily, so the entire gang could sort out all their facts. Given all the accidents and encounters that had happened in the home, the gang sought refuge in the back of the Mystery Machine. Fred had completely isolated himself, slumped in a corner. Shaggy would grumble every so often, resulting in a glare from Velma. Daphne had chosen to ignore the behavior of the guys, focusing only on the task at hand. Scooby, confused entirely at this point, was sleeping on the front seat.

"I've done some research on the internet, gang." Velma's informational speech began as it usually did, which was calming for everyone. "We're not the first paranormal investigators to be stumped by this place."

That got everyone's attention.

"What do you mean, Velma?" Daphne's voice sounded fragile.

"Five years ago, three members of Ohio Paranormal were called out here to investigate."

The three other members looked on incredulously.

"I'm pulling up the article now… It says here that they were here for two weeks when communication was completely cut off. The police opened a missing persons' report, but their disappearance was never solved."

"Can you tell how long the house has stood here?" It was Fred's voice that was now joining the conversation.

"According to public archives, the house was built in 1842… Here's a copy of the deed…"

The van lulled into a deep silence. No one dared breathe, or even move.

"Shit."

It was very rare for Velma to curse. "Berkshire. The name on the deed is Berkshire."

"Claire?" Daphne was now straining her neck to look at the computer screen.

"No, Robert. Hold on, let me run a search on him… Robert Thomas Berkshire. Born in Georgia in 1809, married Adelaide Rollins in 1828. They had four children… Robert Jr., who died of smallpox at the age of 18 months, Rebekah, Nathaniel, who was killed during the Civil War while fighting for the Confederacy…." Velma's face suddenly went pale.

"And… Like, Velma?" Shaggy had now joined the conversation. "Like, who's the fourth kid?"

There was silence.

"Velma…?" Daphne placed her hand on the brunette's shoulders.

"It's real." Her voice seemed to only make the tension grow more.

"What's real?" Fred was becoming more engaged, moving closer to the rest of the gang.

"All of this. The fourth child. A girl, named Claire."

Velma turned the laptop around for all to see. There, on the screen:

An 1800s picture.

Of their client.


	7. Chapter 7

They had decided not to inform PRS of Daphne's pregnancy. It seemed best for everyone; though Daphne was made to promise that she would limit her involvement in the exorcism. Tech duty seemed safe enough, and though Sergey had questioned her technical skills, he agreed. The priest had arrived at the house, and time was drawing ever closer towards the event that every member of Mystery Inc. was dreading.

Mrs. Berkshire had been asked to leave the home. She had argued that she should be present to fight whatever evil had destroyed her family, she finally relented and left. Velma had shivers going down her spine. No one had actually seen their client leave. She walked out the front door. She did not own a car, nor did a taxi or her daughter come to collect her. This fact alone served as a warning to the bespectacled brunette.

They were all sitting in the den they had claimed as base. Mystery Inc. on one side, PRS on the other. As it became nearly time to begin the exorcism, Scooby began to feel a distinct chill around him. He felt his heart begin to race, and his ears were constantly twitching. As his anxiety rose, he began to whimper. Shaggy sensed this, and began gently stroking Scooby's fur in a fruitless attempt to calm him.

Daphne had begun to feel nauseous. She began to play with her hair, constantly tapping her foot. It was something to do. Fred was more worried for his unborn child than their client- or supposed bad guy. He began to pray silently.

It had started storming about an hour before they were to begin. The sky had darkened, thunder shaking the foundation of the house. The lightning did nothing more than scare everyone. In the corner of the room, the priest looked down at his watch: it read midnight. Shaggy had noticed the time as well, and began praying that no one noticed. His prayer went unanswered.

"It is time."

XxxxX

They just had to be put together. Of course. Because fate hated her. Or him. It was most likely they were both hated. She was becoming increasingly agitated that she was embarrassed; taking her full focus from the task at hand.

"Perhaps we should try reading…"

It was the first time either Fred or Velma had attempted to talked to each other. They had been sectioned together during the exorcism, Velma documenting any activity while Fred read from the Bible. They had started over an hour ago, and there was complete silence. The occasional creak in the floorboards, but no conversation. Velma, out of embarrassment, Fred, half anger, half afraid to make Velma explode like she had previously with the Priest. She had her laptop open, an EMF detector, and had set up several infra-red cameras throughout the home. Her eyes were glued to the technology, not her supposed partner. Without telling anyone else, she had planted two cameras at the tech station downstairs, both focused on Daphne. One infra-red, one a night camera, both aimed at keeping her friend safe, no matter how little she participated. Velma and Fred were stationed on the fifth floor, near the room where Shaggy had been attacked several days earlier. The thought of where they were was uncomfortable to Velma, though she couldn't tell if Fred felt the same way. She hoped he felt something.

"Try it," she finally chose to speak. "There's no activity in the house at all."

Fred picked up the Bible carefully. Though the priest had blessed it, in such a high-stakes situation he was beginning to doubt its effectiveness. He ran his fingers down the spine of the book, wondering if praying would protect them. It would certainly provoke something within the house, but he was unconvinced that everyone would walk away unharmed tonight. He opened it, flipping between gospels, testaments both old and new, unsure of where to begin. He knew whatever plagued the house was completely aware of this. His hands began to sweat, anxiety began to rise, and his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. "Heavenly Father, who art in Heaven…"

Both felt a sudden change in the room. Fred kept praying as though nothing had happened, though his facial expression told a different story. Velma switched her camera feed to Daphne downstairs, silently hoping, praying that she would remain unharmed. Praying Shaggy would be unharmed. "Hallowed by Thy name… Kingdom come, thy will be done…" Fred's heart began to race faster. He felt nauseous. "On Earth as it is in Heaven…"

The lights went out. Fred paused. He was beginning to feel lightheaded. He felt his throat cracking, it would surely be reflected in his voice. "G-give us this day, our daily bread…" Velma was sure Fred was beginning to shake. Velma wasn't sure if it was from fear for his safety, or fear of the unknown in general. "And forgive us our trespasses…"

Velma too, began to feel sick. Her hands felt as if they had completely fallen asleep, and found it nearly impossible to move. Her heart was pounding, and her head was beginning to walk down the same path. As Fred continued praying, she felt her stomach knotting. It was beginning to become physically painful… "As we forgive those who trespass against us…"

There was silence as far as they could hear. Shaggy and Scooby were preforming the same as them on the floor below them, and in the basement, PRS was with the priest. Velma prayed it worked. Nothing was happening. For once, that scared her. What if this thing was playing them? Playing _with _them? The concept of being some demon's plaything was enough to make her begin gagging. Sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead.

"Lead us- Velma?" Fred had stopped praying. Why had he stopped? He was giving that _thing _an advantage.

She felt like she was choking. "I-I'm fine. K-keep praying."

Fred began breathing heavily. "L-lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…" He could see his breath now. The hairs lining his spine were all erect, he had never noticed them before. His head was pounding. He felt like he'd been drinking.

Velma's every-growing anxiety was blossoming into anger. Why was Fred praying? It wouldn't save them, she knew that… Her feet were falling asleep. Trapped. Trapped like a rat in a cage. "Yours, the kingdom, the glory…." Her heart was in her throat. She felt a though she was going to cough it out onto the floor. "Forever and ever…"

Her face was burning…

"Amen." She felt the word slip out of her mouth.

Fred closed the Bible, and looked over to his teammate and friend. Her body was contorted, her countenance donning sheer pain.

"Velma?" She opened her eyes. She felt warmth encase her body, her muscles relaxing, limbs untwisting… "Velma, what happened?" She could only gaze at him.

He backed up a few paces, Bible still clutched in his hands. He felt a sense of relief, but knew the night was far from over. Slowly, Velma hoisted herself off the floor, knees trembling. Breathing became easier, pain subsided. She was drained. She wanted to cry. She felt the need to break.

They stared at each other, just breathing.

Velma chose to seek refuge on the bed in the room, each breath she took even more reassuring than the last. "Again." He looked at her, puzzled. "We need… To do it again."

Fred stared at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

"Fred, it's working. Whatever this is, we're really pissing it off."

XxxxX

They had been roaming between rooms. It wasn't part of the original game plan, but it was never prohibited either. He felt a heaviness in his chest, accompanied by a deep sense of depression. Over the two hours they had been patrolling the fourth floor, conversation had been kept to a minimum. There was the occasional warning of "watch your step", but anxiety had sewn their mouths shut. Scooby followed behind him at a close distance, tail low, steps slow and steady.

"Why don't we like, see what's in this room?" Shaggy pushed open the door, allowing Scooby the opportunity to enter first. The Great Dane looked upwards, and hesitantly entered. In any other haunted house, Shaggy would have simply held the door for his best friend. This was different. Much different. Despite there being no windows, or holes in the wall, there was a distinct cold breeze in the room. Holding up his flashlight, Shaggy found that the room was rather small. The internal structure of the house was exposed, old rotting beams and newspapers glared down at him from the rafters. Shining the light around, he could see boxes. They looked to be made of cardboard, though fairly old. In the background he could hear Scooby sniffing around, and decided to inspect his discoveries further. Upon closer inspection of the room he found a floorboard had been removed, and cautiously shone the light into it, half afraid of what he would find. He kneeled down next to it, hoping he wouldn't regret it. What he found certainly didn't scare him, not outright at least. He did, however, feel his anxiety heighten.

The floor was filled with a random assortment of things. Several shoes, all mismatched, different sizes, even one women's heel, he carefully picked up a few, placing them on the floor around him. Beneath the shoes he found an old baseball cap, which at once, from what he could tell, was a hunter green. Years of dust and abandonment had eaten at the fabric, the inner part of the visor was exposed, threads ripped out from the corners, heaped together in a tangled mess. On the front of the hat was an embroidered insignia, which had also been eaten at with neglect. He gently blew on it, effectively removing any dust. Shaggy could tell that the logo had once been red, with white bordering. Bugs had made several meals out of it, holes in the lettering, with free-flying threads visible. He could just barely make out the words: _Ohi araorma. _

"Like, Ohio Paranormal." His heart began to beat faster. He continued on digging, a cold spot forming in the pit of his stomach. Without looking, he plunged his hand down to the very bottom of the compartment. He felt something cold, and very oddly shaped, without looking at it, he couldn't tell what it was. It seemed to have a hole, and he was able to stick a finger through it to bring it to the surface.

A gold wedding ring.

It wasn't particularly old, ten, twenty years at the latest. It was quite badly scratched, though Shaggy could still vaguely see his reflection in it. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. This hole in the floor meant one thing: This was real. This was all actually happening. There was no one wearing a costume, a disguise or a mask. He was dealing with the very thing, that for his entire life, he had been told hadn't existed. How many times had his mother told him there was no such thing as ghosts or monsters? His father? Maggie? Velma? They had all been wrong.

All of them. Is it okay to panic _now_?

He dropped the ring back into the hole, wrestling himself off the ground. He shone the flashlight around the room, only to relieve his fears, and found Scooby at his feet. He jumped back, frightened.

"Like, Scooby Doo, what's wrong with you?!" His voice came harsher than he intended.

"Ruh, rothing, Ri rhrink." The Great Dane's tail was wagging as much as he could. Shaggy could tell he was practically petrified.

"You, like, scared me half to death." He took his phone out of his pocket, it was nearly 4:30 in the morning. This exorcism had to be over soon, didn't it? He motioned for Scooby to follow him. With great caution they made their way down the corridor. It seemed to linger forever, and Shaggy had to wonder just how many rooms could be on one floor. It may have been him, but they didn't appear to be getting any closer to the landing of the stairs. Shaggy had noticed that Scooby was beginning to breathe more heavily, and was starting to walk faster, pulling ahead of him. He also quickened his pace to keep up with the dog. Was there something Scooby sensed that he didn't? He thought it was best not to say anything just yet. His head was pounding, a sort of pain he had never experienced before. Was it noticeable? To Scooby? To whatever they were after? Or rather, whatever was after them.

Was he hearing footsteps? Or was it his head again?

Whatever it was, Scooby had taken notice.

They were drawing nearer now, Shaggy could see the banister on the staircase. He felt a third beat in his chest, relief.

There were the footsteps again. They had to be real. They were faster now; they sounded panicked. He was becoming even more alarmed than he had been.

He nearly tripped over Scooby. There was Velma, standing at the stop of the stairs. She was covered with blood.

"I-it's D-Daphne…" She choked.


	8. Chapter 8

They were all gathered around her. She was deathly pale, sweat pounding down her face. Her eyes had lost their sparkle. She was thrashing her head about, hands clenched onto Fred's. Her skin was contaminated a tinge of red. Tears stained her face and hair, her cheeks were nearly black from running makeup. It was nearly as bad as the blood. The lower half of her dress was completely saturated, and in order for them to see what was happening, they'd had to cut the skirt off the dress. She was too weak to help, and Fred and Shaggy were left to do it. Velma had pulled her stockings as far down as she could. Scooby had taken refuge under the tech table, his crying could be heard from the stairs. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

The dispatcher had said ten minutes. It seemed as if it had been nearly twice that. Blood had pooled between Daphne's legs, staining the wooden floor beneath her. Fred was red in the face, though it was difficult to tell whether he was scared, angry or crying. His white shirt was smothered in Daphne's blood, some had splattered onto his hands. He was beginning to shake. Shaggy was holding the scissors they had used to cut Daphne's dress, and what scraps of clothing were left. The front of his shirt bore Daphne's blood, it was heavy, and as it clung to the shirt, it became heavier. Blood was seeping onto his skin. Velma was doing her best not to break out crying. Tears was streaking down her face. She was grasping at her own skirt, shaking slightly. Her classic orange sweater was splattered with blood. She thought her hands would be permanently stained. Daphne's movements were starting to slow down, as was her bleeding.

Daphne was going to die.

She was closing her eyes.

_"Open the door!" _The front door began to shake. Scooby was the first to react, sliding out from under the table, he opened the door with his tail, barely getting out of the way before the EMTs got through the door. "_Move!" _Shaggy was thrust aside, pushed with so much force he fell over. Velma got up voluntarily, legs wobbling, she pushed her glasses up her nose.

"How long has she been bleeding?" The words had come and gone before anyone had a chance to register them.

"Nearly twenty minutes." Velma was the only one who was able to speak.

"Move aside!" There were more EMTs now. They had Daphne surrounded. She looked dead compared to the people around her. "She needs blood…" The medic frantically looked around to the people near him. "What blood type is she?"

"O-O positive." Fred _was_ crying. Shaggy could see it in his face now.

The medic felt Daphne's pulse at her neck. "We're losing her!" He turned to the medic crouched next to him. "Go get two bags of O+! Bring a liter of saline and the emergency blanket!" The medic scrambled, bolting out the door. A third medic was at Daphne's head, securing a neck brace. The first medic had a tube in Daphne's mouth, and upon locating her airway, attached a hand pump and began manually delivering oxygen. A fourth and fifth medic were next to arrive, wielding a stretcher. Velma and Shaggy backed up further, giving them more room. The third medic returned seconds later, landing at Daphne's side and quickly grabbed her arm. He began searching for a vein, forcefully tapping her skin in the attempt to find one. A needle was quickly in her arm, blood bag attached. He inserted a second needle in her other arm, and attached a bag of clear fluids.

"Hold her steady!" They were putting her on the stretcher now. Each medic was holding onto some part of her as she was gently laid down on it. "Wheels!" There was the sound of metallic clanging, and they were rolling Daphne out the door. One of the medics turned to face the gang. "We're taking her to Union Hospital."

And then they were gone.

Fred was still kneeling where Daphne had been.

XxxxX

Shaggy had been the only one capable of driving. No one had said anything. Velma was shaking, Fred was near catatonic. He was the only one left. He was the only one in the front seat. No one was talking. Every once in a while, Scooby would let out a whimper, and Shaggy would attempt to smile in the rear-view mirror, however solemn it was. Shaggy had run three red lights and two stop signs by the time he had parked the Mystery Machine. He was thankful he hadn't been pulled over, but at the same time, lacked the ability to care if he got a ticket. He was sure he was double parked. He felt horrible leaving Scooby in the van, though he had nearly everything Scooby could need or want. It was the same hospital Shaggy had been taken to when he was stabbed. It had only been a few days, but it seemed like a lifetime. Walking into the ER seemed like a lifetime in itself. It seemed vaguely familiar to him, though it should be. Some people were staring at them, and it was only then he remembered that they were all covered in blood. It was the first thing the receptionist noticed.

"Oh god!" It was a reaction more than a concern. "Do you need a wheelchair? Nurse-" She was already standing when Shaggy cut her short.

"No, none of us are hurt."

She stopped short, putting her hand on the reception desk. She turned to face the man in front of her. "Then why are you here? Do you realize you're soaked in blood?" Her hand moved to a small intercom on the desk, Shaggy presumed she was going to call security.

He wasn't thinking straight. He had to tell her why they were there, but where were the words?

"We're here for Daphne Blake." It was Velma's. Her voice was creaky, and still sounded like she had been crying. She had her sleeves pulled down past her hands, extra fabric wrapped around her hands. Her eyes shone with tears, and her face was patchy. Shaggy found himself staring for a brief moment. Most of Daphne's blood was on Velma's skirt, and some had found its way onto her legs and knee-highs. He had never seen her like this.

The receptionist said nothing, only closed her mouth and returned to her seat. She reached under the desk, bringing back a clipboard with what appeared to be a list of patients. She flipped through several pages before placing her finger down on the paper. "Oh dear." She went back to the intercom. "Dr. Cartman to Emergency Reception. Dr. Cartman to reception. Thank you." She turned her attention back to the strangers in front of her. "Her doctor should arrive shortly."

"Can't you tell us where she is?" Shaggy was quickly becoming annoyed. He found his fingers were tapping on his arm, feet beginning to sway back and forth. "We're like, basically her family!"

The receptionist sensed that the man was becoming agitated. "Sir, I'm not trained in medicine-"

"That much is quite obvious." At least Velma was as pissed as Shaggy was. A bloody finger was pushing her glasses up her nose. "You're a messenger. Relay the message!" Shaggy could see that she was grinding her teeth. The motion was slight, but it was there.

The receptionist was glaring at Velma now, though her words were directed at Shaggy. "I was told that when her family arrived, that her doctor should be paged immediately. Now, if you'll excuse me. I may not be a doctor," she turned her head to Velma, "but I do have work to do." Velma stepped forwards, mouth open, ready to start another argument. Shaggy grabbed her by the wrist. She turned to find him shaking his head.

"She's not worth it." He was sure to say it loud enough for the receptionist to hear. He moved the gang away from the desk and into the lobby of the emergency room. Shaggy looked down at himself. His hands were stained with the blood of a living being. From Daphne. His shirt was torn, leaving patches of blood on his skin. He was sure it was on his face. It had to be. They all looked like mass murderers.

He was most worried about Fred. He was wearing so much blood it looked like he was wearing a red shirt, not a blood-soaked white one. The ends of his hair was tinged crimson. Even his tears were red as they scraped against his face. Shaggy was worried that Fred would end up admitted himself. Shaggy felt his knees shaking, his eyes burning.

"Family of Daphne Blake?"

It was as if someone had taken a hammer to a pane of glass. It was a doctor, wearing a white lab coat spattered with blood. Fred looked away, trying to stifle tears once more.

"That's us." Shaggy was so shaken up he had forgotten to add his characteristic 'like'. The doctor nodded, seemingly acknowledging the blood covered clothing they all shared.

"I'm Andrew Cartman, the resident assigned Ms. Blake's case." He sheepishly offered a hand, attempting to keep normalcy. No one had the sense to shake it.

"H-how is she?" Velma was able to squeak small sentences.

Dr. Cartman's face grew grim. "She's in surgery." Their faces fell. _Surgery? _Realizing this statement needed an exclamation, he began to speak. "There was massive damage to her uterus and reproductive tract. She's lost all her blood, and donor blood is not taking."

There was no reaction to his words.

"When we got into surgery, we found that Ms. Blake had a condition called placenta accreta where the placenta isn't attached to the uterus, it's a part of the organ, attached inside the lining. It was basically ripped out, leaving the uterus in two halves. Surgeons are currently trying to stabilize her, but… At best, it will be several hours before they are finished."

No one said anything. Dr. Cartman breathed silently and left them.

"… T-t-the baby…"

It was the first time Fred had been able to say anything since they had found Daphne laying on the floor. Their hearts sank. The doctor had talked about everything except Daphne's pregnancy. Shaggy feared the worst. Velma was already beyond that point, creating strategies to help her friend cope should the worst happen. They both knew that both Fred and Daphne would rely on them, perhaps only Fred if Daphne didn't survive.

It was only then that Shaggy found the ability to sit. The chair was hard, and pressed into his back. He felt so anxious that he might have passed out. How were they going to recover from this? What would they do if Daphne didn't make it? He couldn't press himself to think about it, but he couldn't find the ability to think about anything else. He found his hands in his hair, elbows on his knees.

When they had all met in elementary school, they would have never pictured the situation they were in now. Then again, when they were all just kids, Shaggy would have never imagined Daphne and Fred getting busy and Daphne ending up pregnant at the age of 21. In high school, he and Velma had suspected they liked each other, but when they all went to college, the rumors had died down. Hadn't Daphne even dated a few people in college? Wait, had _Velma_?

Why was he thinking of Velma during a time like this?

The brunette had gone to Cambridge, Massachusetts to attend Harvard. It was no surprise when she had been accepted. She ended up being Valedictorian at their graduation, president of National Honors Society their senior year. What was her GPA, 4.6? He hadn't known that was possible. Fred, being raised by a single parent, went to Coolsville University, where he majored in Political Science and minored in English. Daphne had gone to Fashion Institute of New York. God, they had all just graduated.

At that moment, Shaggy wasn't sure if Fred would survive this, let alone Daphne.

He felt his eyes burning. His cheeks felt cool. He was grabbing his hair, arms shaking. His entire world was falling apart. It was that nightmare where everything you loved was leaving, and you had your arms outstretched to grasp it, only missing it again. It was real.

"Family of Daphne Blake?"

Velma found the energy to stand, coming to address the person facing her. It was a young woman, wearing green scrubs and crocs. "I've been sent to take you to the family waiting room."

XxxxX

It had been a quiet and solemn elevator ride. Fred was only a shell of the person everyone knew. As they and the nurse had stepped out of the elevator, Velma had grabbed hold of Shaggy's shirt. He paused, looking at her. She was simply broken. He placed a hand around her shoulder, bracing her as they followed the nurse. The family waiting room was not a place anyone wanted to be. There was a television at the far end of the room, displaying a local news channel, several coffee machines, and a myriad of chairs. There was no one else with them.

They were stranded. No information. No contacts.

No Daphne.


	9. Chapter 9

It was nearly noon. They had been sitting in the waiting room for close to six hours. Velma had cried herself to sleep. The blood had still been wet and had dried to his skin. They were connected, though only through a way they both despised. Shaggy found himself stroking her arm with his thumb, hopelessly attempting to calm her as she slept. He was glad at least one of them was able to sleep. By now, Fred was nearly catatonic. Both Shaggy and Velma had attempted to talk to him, but it was purely that. Talking _to_ him. At him. To a brick wall. They were worried he had somehow lost the ability to speak.

About an hour into the wait, he had moved across the waiting room. Velma had suspected it was an attempt to isolate himself as much as possible. What else was there to think? Neither of them were entirely sure what Fred was thinking at that moment. His eyes had gone completely grey, almost inhuman.

As Shaggy contemplated trying to talk to Fred once more, he felt Velma stirring beside him. He looked down at her, seeing that tiny specs of blood had hardened onto her glasses as she had slept. Her eyes were still glossy, though she was more lucid than Fred. She pointed to the doorway, and began to stand. As she pushed herself up from the seat, she found herself losing balance. Shaggy caught her at her hips, standing behind her for extra protection. She tried not to blush, feeling the moment was completely inappropriate.

As they left the waiting room, their eyes were glued to Fred. He looked like he didn't even know where he was. Almost possessed. They felt bad for leaving him, even if they were just outside the door. The hallway was significantly colder than the waiting room, causing them both to shiver. Looking around, it was nearly impossible to tell where they were in the hospital. Each end of the hallway looked the same. Nurses were darting about, in and out of doors; occasionally glancing at them. Shaggy leaned into the wall. He was _exhausted_. He had been up for nearly 24 hours straight, most of them spent in a panic. Velma's expression said the same thing.

She looked over her shoulder before she began to speak. "Shaggy… I've been thinking."

He tried to laugh, to keep things normal. "Like, that's supposed to surprise me?" He sheepishly smiled.

She smiled briefly, then frowned. "We have to drop this case."

He suddenly felt like he'd been hit by a truck. In all the years they'd been investigating, not once had such a statement escaped Velma's lips. "Like- _what?_"

"You disagree?" Her tone seemed angry.

"No, like, not at all. It's just that, you've never said that before."

She sighed. "Shaggy, nothing's been this… Severe before."

"Like, what about the time Fred broke his leg?"

She had to agree with him somewhat. Yes, there had been plenty of injuries over the years. Plenty of hospital visits. Fred _had _broken his leg during an investigation at a ski resort several years back.

"Or the time the van crashed and we almost ended up in the Chicago River?"

That one was particularly painful. Fred and Daphne had competed on the show _Talent Star_, sending them to the Windy City. In the midst of the competition, they had ended up being chased through downtown Chicago by the culprit, who had crashed into their van to hard it nearly sent them through the side guard and into the river.

"Or the time the doctor told me I had to stop solving mysteries all together?"

The reminder of that crushed her. After one case, Shaggy had a panic attack, sending him to the emergency room. The doctor had recommended him to quit Mystery Inc.

"Shaggy. In all the years we've been friends, that there's been Mystery Inc., no one's died." The space went cold.

He was reminded once again that Daphne may not make it out of this mystery alive. She could be dead, right now. How would they know?

"Velma, Daphne's a fighter. She can't be… We can't assume…" His voice was cracking.

"I-I know. But, Shaggy. We can't go back. Next time, and you know this will happen again. First you, then Daphne? Next time, someone will die."

She was absolutely right. They had been lucky. They were all alive, for now.

"Okay."

It was as he said this that a nurse entered the waiting room. They both suddenly felt cold. Velma entered first with Shaggy trailing behind.

She had to be here for them. She was in scrubs, feet in surgical booties, hands in gloves, surgical mask covering her face. She stared at them, seemingly sizing them up before she engaged them. "Family of Daphne Blake?"

The color returned to Fred's eyes. He was instantly at the nurse's feet, looking near murderous with anxiety. Shaggy made his way to Fred's side, placing his hand on his shoulder. The blonde seemed to calm at this gesture, his body relaxing.

"Ms. Blake is in recovery-"

Velma let out a cry, hands at her face, corners of her mouth turned upwards. Shaggy felt his eyes tearing as well, though he could only smile. Fred's whole face was glowing, tears streaking down his face.

The nurse smiled, though she was completely unaware of the gang's bond, their friendship, and how much this simple sentence made to them.

"She just came out of surgery. She's stable, though she will be in the ICU for the night. Just a precaution. Now, if you'll come with me, I'll take you to her."

XxxxxX

Compared to the state she was in earlier that day, Daphne looked near perfect. She was still unconscious; it would take at least an hour for her to come out of the anesthesia. Even though she was bloody, her hair still shone. It was messy, but still angelic. She donned an oxygen cannula, with an IV in each arm. Sheets covered her from her midsection down. They were all afraid of the mess that was bandaged underneath. Fred held her hand, messaging it slowly. Velma was sure he was making sure she still had a pulse. Velma was staring at her, smiling, still breathing heavily, face still wet with tears. She had pulled a chair to the end of the bed, wrapping her finger around a toe. Shaggy was still in shock, brain running close to overload. He was standing next to the bed, hands in his pockets, glancing around at everyone.

"Thank you, God. Thank you…" Fred was whispering to Daphne, internally praying that she would hear it.

Velma stood, making her way around Fred to the IV machine hooked to Daphne. She gently grasped one of the bags, searching for a label. She found it was only morphine, and the other was a blood transfusion. Looking to her best friend, she looked so pale, so weak. How were they going to recover? Not just Daphne, but all of them. She returned to her seat, gently grabbing at Shaggy's shirt.

"Like, what is it?" He was barely able to squeak at this point.

"Maybe after they transfer Daphne to a permanent room, one of us could get a change of clothes or something? Or food at least."

Shaggy wanted to smile, but deep down, he knew that Velma discussing such things were just clues to how severe everything was. "I'll, like, take care of it."

Conversation died down after that. All they could do was focus on Daphne. They had nearly lost her.

Their heads turned at the same time. They sensed a new presence with them. It was a new face. His scrubs were soaked in blood. He was still wearing a surgical mask and protective shield.

"Like, who the hell are you?" Shaggy's temper was due to sleep deprivation.

"I'm Dr. Stevens. I was Ms. Blake's main surgeon."

"H-how bad is it?" Fred was standing now, though he still kept a hand on Daphne.

"It was touch and go for most of the procedure. She flat-lined twice-"

"She _died_?" Fred's mouth was agape.

"Technically speaking… Yes. Her heart stopped twice. Purely from a lack of blood, her circulatory system had nothing to pump, and thus, shut down. We pumped her with 24 units of donor blood before we could stabilize her and begin repairing the damage- what did you say caused this, exactly?"

Velma grabbed the opportunity to explain. "We _didn't_. We found her bleeding. We're not sure what happened."

"Well, whatever _did_ happen, she's _very_ lucky to be alive." It was only then that they noticed the clipboard he was carrying. He moved closer to the monitor, recording vitals.

"Doctor, what damage was there, exactly?"

Dr. Stevens face darkened. He placed the clipboard on top of the monitor, and faced the gang. "Were you aware Ms. Blake was pregnant?" They nodded. "Unfortunately for her sake, when the placenta began to form, it formed attached in the wall of the uterus itself, not on the outer lining, which is where it develops normally. When she miscarried-"

"_What_." Fred looked murderous. Velma was afraid he might actually attack the doctor. "She… She lost the baby?"

The doctor's eyes widened. "My apologies, I was told you were already informed of that." Fred opened his mouth to attack this statement, but was cut off by Velma.

"Please excuse my friend, he's very distraught." Velma wasn't sure of what to say. She had never seen Fred act like this, but then again; Shaggy had never acted like this either… She shook herself mentally. There was time and place to think of Shaggy, and that wasn't now.

The doctor seemed to ignore her statement altogether, and continued explaining Daphne's diagnosis. "When she miscarried, her body attempted to discard the products of conception through the vagina, which can resemble the beginning stages of labor due simply to the fact that the uterus must contract complete the miscarriage. It was during this process that the placenta actually tore a hole in the uterus, causing the massive internal bleeding."

Velma was trying her hardest not to break out crying. She had seen plenty of medical shows, and read numerous reports, but a report wasn't Daphne.

"D-do you know what caused her to miscarry?"

"When we examined the uterus, and the products of conception, both were completely healthy. There really is no medical explanation for why this happened. We've run a toxicology report, and are waiting for the results, but that's really the only explanation."

Velma closed her eyes, letting it all wash over her. "T-thank you, d-doctor." She was trying to be strong for Fred's sake, for Daphne's sake. For her own sake. She turned back to Shaggy and Fred, eyes falling of Daphne once again. Fred no longer seemed upset, his face now bore the characteristics of anger and frustration. Neither Shaggy nor Velma were sure how to handle their friend at the moment.

Fred had both hands wrapped around Daphne's, seemingly holding on for dear life.

They could say nothing. What _could_ they say? 'Oh, don't worry, you can always knock her up again!' That would be just fantastic.

They heard the curtains rustling behind them again. Two nurses stood before them, one with his face buried in a clipboard, the other standing beside him, smiling slightly. He first nurse flipped through the pages, then looked at them. "Daphne Blake?" Velma nodded, wiping her eyes. The nurses stepped forward, taking command of Daphne's bed, causing Fred to step back. The clipboard nurse looked up to Shaggy. "She'll be in the ICU. Room 713." They could hear the brake release, and Daphne was wheeled out of the room.

They stood back for several minutes, staring at each other, and at things around the room. Shaggy finally pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. It was nearly 2pm. "I'm gonna like, go check on Scooby and get some supplies. I'll be like, back soon." He scratched the back of his head, waiting for any response.

Though he was still looking at the floor, Fred was able to respond. "Sounds like a plan."


	10. Chapter 10

He wasn't ready to drive. He wasn't ready to breathe. What had just happened in the past 24 hours?

They had all gone from barely speaking to each other to crying together in a hospital.

Daphne had nearly died. God knows only how long it would take for her to recover. She miscarried. They would have to leave the case.

They'd never done that. Not in the ten years they'd been solving cases. Not when they were in the fifth grade and Fred got grounded for not coming home for dinner when he suspected Red Herring of stealing the class guinea pig. Not when he had nearly failed his senior project for missing a seminar to be live bait.

Granted, being paid to solve mysteries was an added bonus. None of them had been hired in their field after graduation and it was their only income at the moment. Leaving would mean not being paid in full for their services.

He shook his head, smacking his forehead. _What was he saying_? That _money_ was more important than Daphne's life?

He had heard the doctor clearly. Her uterus had been nearly ripped in half. She should be dead.

If he believed in demons, why couldn't he believe in angels too?

XxxxX

With Shaggy running errands, Velma wasn't sure what to do. Fred wasn't speaking, and Daphne wasn't awake. The doctor had been in since Shaggy departed, attempting to explain more of what had happened medically. They had been able to suture her uterus. It had taken nearly 50 stitches and they nearly considered removing it. The doctor claimed they would have, had she not been so young.

They were predicting she would get pregnant again.

Velma smiled at this prospect. At the idea that perhaps one day this would all be forgotten and merely a memory.

Her surgeon had returned as well, after having cleaned up. He felt it was best if he explained aftercare himself.

"She'll be on bed rest for a while." He explained. "I'd suggest four weeks. Her body is in overdrive trying to repair itself."

Velma glanced over to Fred, who she could tell was attempting to pay attention but was still suffering from shock. His eyes were locked on her stomach- or what remained of it. Velma internally sighed, turning her attention back to the surgeon.

"I'll prescribe a pain killer to make her comfortable, but she'll be uneasy for some time." He began flipping through her chart, searching for any more notes. "We've started her on a course of antibiotics to help her along and prevent any long term complications but she will have to continue them after her release."

It was at this prospect that Fred began to perk up. He had been holding Daphne's hand in his own, trying to distract himself. "When can she come home?" Fred blurted it out before it registered with anyone, including himself.

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose and then closed Daphne's chart. "That depends on how well she responds to treatment. There is still a great potential for infection at the moment. We're still unsure as of to how exactly these injuries occurred or _what_ was used to do it, or how sterile it was. She'll be here at least a week to combat that, as well as supervised recovery. If all goes well, it should be just that week, but if her condition changes it could mean Ms. Blake may have a longer stay here."

Velma wasn't sure what Fred's expression was. It had changed after hearing the doctor's words, but to what? She couldn't tell if it was sorrow or excitement. Both? She turned to the doctor again, nearly unable to find words. "Doctor, when can we expect her to wake up?"

"Should be relatively soon. She's been out of surgery for over an hour. But be aware, she's going to be very disorientated. It's going to take several hours for the effects of the anesthesia to wear off."

XxxxX

As soon as he unlocked the front door he was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to shut down. Just to curl into a ball and sleep. Maybe when he woke up it would all be over. It would all be just a wild nightmare. He'd wake up in bed with Scooby at his feet and watch a movie with Velma.

Velma.

What the _hell _was going on with her? With him? With them?

There was a _them?_

What were they going to do about it?

Scooby had gone straight to sleep as soon as he entered the house. On Shaggy's bed, as per usual. There was no waking that dog.

The thought of Velma kept eating at him. He kept telling himself he had better things to worry about than whether his potential relationship would pan out. He felt vulnerable. Fred had been right, he didn't remember much at all of that night they took the van. What had he done? What had _they done_? It began to aggravate him. They had both been drunk- but that was no excuse.

Amongst his scattered thoughts, Shaggy attempted to focus on the task at hand. They all needed fresh clothes. He needed to shower. He was so tense his veins were bulging along his arms.

What did this all mean? Why Daphne? Was it really a shock whatever it was had gone after a pregnant woman a second time?

But it _was_ a shock any of this was real. Painfully real.

It was all too painfully real that he had no memory of the night he had stolen his best friend's car and made off with a girl out of state.

A girl? It was _Velma_.

What did she mean to him?

What _didn't _she mean to him?

What had they done?

Had they kissed?

Had they touched?

Had they-

"Rhaggy!"

He came to. He was welcomed by Scooby, barking and yelling for him to calm down. Looking down, he found he had ripped the drawer clean from his dresser. His clothes were scattered around him, drawer in his hands.

"I'm like… Going to take a shower."

XxxxX

Neither of them wanted to tell Daphne what happened. It wouldn't be long before she would realize she miscarried. But what would be better for her?- They decided to tell her upfront would be easier on the long run.

Shaggy had been gone for two hours when she began to stir. At first it was peaceful, like she was waking in the morning. That soon changed. The nurse who checked her vitals had forewarned them that patients coming out of anesthesia were often agitated and they only thing they could do was stand by and attempt to comfort her.

Agitated was an understatement.

Completely unaware she had been taken to a hospital, or put under sedation, Daphne's reaction had been worse than normal. Screaming, she had managed to rip out her IV line and knock over the morphine stand. They had to restrain her, holding her wrists as she slowly realized it was them. Velma had been the first to act, trying to control the arm with the IV in it, pleading with Fred to help. It took him several moments to snap out of his daze, taking hold of Daphne's other arm. It took her nearly five minutes to realize it was her friends who surrounded her.

She suddenly became very still, eyes darting about- still nervous. This gave Velma the opportunity to hit the nurses' button. Fred was shocked at first to see Daphne so frightened, and it took him a few moments to pull his own thoughts together before could comfort her. The nurse, quite surprised to find her patient had forcibly removed her IV line, stood dumbstruck for a moment before making her way to the cabinet on the far side of the room. She pulled out several gauze pads and a plastic package. Velma darted out of the way, claiming position at Daphne's feet. The nurse made swift work of Daphne's arm, which had been dribbling blood onto her and to the bed sheets. She pulled a roll of medical tape, wrapping the spot where the IV had been with gauze and taped it together. As she made her way around the bed, once again forcing Velma to scurry out of the way and Fred as well, she made some remark how she'd never seen a patient do this. She inserted an IV in Daphne's other arm and left, promising to be back shortly with a bag of saline solution and another of morphine.

It was when the nurse had left the room that Velma began to tell her friend what had happened. Daphne quickly noticed they were covered in blood. She thankfully didn't remember most of the night. Velma explained, with the occasional word from Fred, that she had been attacked and taken to the hospital. She thankfully didn't ask about the baby. Neither Fred or Velma knew how to clue their friend into the fact that she had miscarried. She had asked about Shaggy, to which they told her he had been the only one still sane enough to drive and get clean clothes.

Daphne changed to the topic to the case. She began asking questions, trying to put some of the pieces together. "How did dead time end? Did we solve it? Did we-"

Velma pushed her glasses up her nose again. "Daphne- we're… We're dropping the case."

Daphne cocked her head like a puppy, glancing at Fred and then back to Velma. "… What? Why?"

Fred sat up straight, taking Daphne's hand. "We have to. First Shaggy, now you. You… you nearly died. Enough's enough."

"What about the time we put into it?"

"Daph," Fred cleared his throat. "This case just isn't worth it anymore. It's not worth our lives."

"But no one _died_!"

"Shaggy was dead for a moment. He flat lined. And you… We spent an entire night believing you had died."

"But I'm _okay_."

"You will be." Velma joined the conversation. "You're going to be here for a while. And after you're home it'll still be longer before you can go out on a case again."

It wasn't like Daphne to get so fired up over something. She was usually level-headed. It was just so hard for her to accept that they were giving up.

XxxxX

It was the first time he had taken a shower in their house since the incident with Velma. He self-consciously looked around, making sure no one was around to see him naked, though he knew no one was home except for Scooby. He had washed his air twice and it was still tinged red. The rest of the blood had come off him. He hadn't bothered to try to salvage his clothes, they went right into the garbage. He would have normally at least attempted to towel dry his hair but he just wasn't in the mood. Dripping wet, he hastily threw clothes on, afterwards grabbing a few pieces of everyone else's and shoving them into a backpack.

Scooby was still sleeping when he got ready to leave. Hopefully in a mental place far from Shaggy's. One could hope. He made his way down the stairs, realizing just how sore he was. His stitches were faring for the worst. They had become increasingly itchy and even more difficult not to scratch. Grabbing a grocery bag, he made his way into the kitchen to grab some food for the gang. Disturbingly enough, he wasn't hungry.

Even more disturbing was the knock coming from the back door. He spun on his heels, still jumpy.

It was Katrina and Serg standing at the door.

"We need your help."


	11. Chapter 11

"We're not coming back." Shaggy had no time to debate with them. He walked back into the kitchen, packing a bag with sandwiches. He wasn't going to argue with them. Velma was right, if they went back someone was going to die. Their lives weren't worth it.

He heard knocking again. He tried to ignore it, feeling horrible for refusing someone help. But they could handle it, right? This was an actual haunting, what exactly could Mystery Inc do? They debunked cases. Proved it was a human. This wasn't human. For once they had a case above their pay grade.

He could vaguely hear them calling his name, trying to catch his attention. It really wasn't the professional way to handle it. He was midway through making a sandwich when he heard them rattling the glass door. He stepped back from the counter, taking a breath in.

'_Just tell them how it is. The case is done.' _

He came back into the dining room, pausing for a moment before reaching out and unlatching the door. He gestured for them to come inside.

"You can sit. If you like."

"We won't be long." Katrina was noticeably upset. "We need to discuss-"

Shaggy cut her off. "There is no case." Realizing how short he sounded, he sheepishly dug his hands into his pockets, head hung down. "At least, for us there isn't."

"We're mid-investigation-" Serg tried to interrupt.

"Like look. I was almost stabbed to death. Daphne…" He was trying to fight back tears. He rarely cried. And if he did, he was always alone. "We nearly lost her. This isn't worth it."

"But Mrs. Berkshire hired us."

Shaggy's mouth hung open. He was hesitant about disclosing the truth about their client. He picked his head up. "I don't care." He hadn't meant for it to sound as angry as it did.

Katrina scoffed. "How can you not care?"

"Daphne fucking miscarried. Because of whatever the hell is in that house." He felt his cheeks flushing. "Right now, she's in the goddamn ICU. I was covered in her blood. How can you expect us to just… Forget that for the sake of a paycheck."

"Do you have any idea how unethical it is to subject a pregnant woman to these conditions?" Serg was becoming annoyed.

"Do you hear yourself?" Shaggy could feel his fists balling up. He'd never had a reaction like this. But then again, he'd never experienced such pain before. "We already lost someone. Daphne may not recover." He felt his stomach go cold. How could he have admitted that?

Katrina dropped her hands to her sides. It was obvious the entirety of Mystery Inc was suffering. "We didn't come to fight, or to upset you. We can't finish this one on our own. We need you."

His voice was cracking. "What can we do? We don't do paranormal. We deal with criminals."

"Mrs. Berkshire's home is a warzone. We can't just give up."

"You might want to take another look at Mrs. Berkshire." His voice grew quiet. "I have to get back to the hospital." He stood up a bit. "Daphne might be awake."

Katrina took Serg by the sweater and gently led him to the door. "Call us if you change your mind."

He felt himself beginning to break. He began to choke on his breath as he locked the door. Now was not the time to break down. The gang needed him. It was his turn to lead, to be the provider. And it scared him. He was sleep deprived and anxious.

He felt a crack. He was suddenly alert. Glancing down, he noticed the wall in front of him was dented, flakes of drywall fluttering down to the floor. He reached out to see the damage when he saw his own. There were streaks of paint across his knuckles and blood beginning to bubble up in several spots.

He had never struck anything. He felt vulnerable. He felt separated from his own self. He stepped back, his breathing attempting to return to normal. He slowly went to the kitchen and packed the sandwiches into a bag. He ventured back upstairs to grab the backpack with the clothes in it. He made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a few of Velma's things. He could only imagine they wouldn't be leaving the hospital soon. He had packed his own to give Fred. He didn't feel right spending too much time in Fred and Daphne's rooms. It was like visiting a graveyard. He gave Scooby a hug, and to Shaggy's relief Scooby was too tired to even stir.

As he made his way out, he wondered how long it would be until he saw the inside of his own house again. He locked he door behind him, slightly jealous of the world around him. It was completely unaware of the pain he was in, that the entire gang was in. That Daphne was in, that she would go through to recover.

She would recover.

The pain in his hand was beginning to set in. He was aware of it, and slightly afraid it might be broken, but was still so spaced out he had no ability to be bothered by it. He found his driving to be less erratic but he still didn't feel in control. It was a half hour's drive from home to the hospital. He prayed Daphne had remained stable. He hadn't gotten any calls, but if there was an emergency, calling him wouldn't be the first priority. He had come so close to his entire world falling around him. And if it had, he surely would have fallen with it.


End file.
